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THE    LIFE    A^■D    TIMES 


OP 


SAMUEL    BOWLES 


BY 


GEORGE   S.  MERRIAM 


IN    TWO    VOLUMES 
VOL.   I 


XEW-YOEK 
THE    CENTUKY    CO. 

1SS5 


COPTKIGHT,  1885,  by 
GEORGE  S.  MERKIAM. 


5 
V.I 


A 


<Urp 


f 


PREFACE. 

THIS  book  is  an  attempt  to  faitMully  portray  the  life  of 
a  man.  It  includes,  as  the  appropriate  backgi'ound 
of  such  a  portrait,  a  sketch  of  the  pubhc  events  which  wrought 
on  him  and  on  which  he  wrought. 

The  first  interest  of  the  general  pubhc  in  the  career  of 
Samuel  Bowles  arises  from  the  fact  that  he  was  an  eminent 
joumahst.  He  was  one  of  the  representative  men  through 
whom  a  new  power  in  society  has  been  developed  and  exer- 
cised. His  field  was  in  one  sense  narrow,  for  the  Springfield 
Beinihlican  was  pubHshed  in  a  provincial  town,  and  limited 
to  a  comparatively  small  circulation ;  but  it  exercised  a  wide 
influence.  The  best  measure  of  its  editor's  attainment  was 
not  the  number  of  readers  he  reached,  but  the  theory  and 
ideal  of  joumahsm  which  he  exemplified.  His  personal  history 
touches  the  principles  of  the  art  of  newspaper-making. 

The  justification  for  sketching  a  nation's  story  as  part  of  the 
story  of  a  joiu-nahst's  life  is  that  the  joumahst  has  become  an 
important  factor  in  national  affairs.  Mr.  Bowles's  editorial 
work  covered  the  period  from  the  annexation  of  Texas  to  the 
close  of  reconstruction  under  President  Hayes.  He  was  a  spec- 
tator and  actor  in  the  struggle  which  ended  in  the  overthrow 
of  slavery,  and  also  in  the  problems  which  taxed  the  nation  in 
the  years  following  the  war.  A  great  part  of  the  significance 
and  value  of  his  life  lay  in  his  contribution  to  these  debates. 
Vol.  I.  iii 


IV  PEEFACE. 

Their  reflex  influence  on  him  was  among  the  strongest  forces 
that  shaped  his  growth.  We  do  not  rightly  appreciate  the  his- 
tory of  a  nation,  except  as  we  see  it  entering  into  the  thought 
and  character  of  the  individual  citizen ;  nor  do  we  appreciate 
the  citizen,  especially  if  he  be  a  leader  among  his  feUo^^s, 
unless  we  keep  before  our  eyes  the  fortunes  of  the  great  com- 
munity of  which  he  is  a  member. 

The  sketch  here  given  of  the  more  prominent  events  of  the 
country's  pohtieal  history  makes  no  pretensions  to  profundity 
of  research  or  originaHty  of  view.  It  follows  the  line  of  central 
interest, — the  slavery  question,  the  war,  reconstruction,  and 
reform, — touching  collateral  issues  but  hghtly.  It  deals  with 
thoughts  and  motives  rather  than  with  outward  action;  and 
the  scenes  of  its  drama  he  more  in  the  minds  of  the  common 
people  than  in  battle-fields  or  the  chambers  of  Congress.  Its 
materials  have  been  drawn  partly  from  standard  works  and 
partly  from  the  volumes  of  the  Bepuhlican.  The  files  of  a 
newspaper  must  not  be  trusted  always  to  give  the  ti-ue  propor- 
tion of  the  events  which  they  narrate  from  day  to  day,  and 
their  record  must  be  open  to  large  correction  from  other 
sources.  But,  picturing  the  scene  as  it  appeared  to  actors  and 
contemporaries,  and  giving  details  caught  by  the  reporter's 
pen  before  memory  has  had  time  to  grow  treacherous,  they 
yield  most  abundant  and  vivid  material. 

The  more  essential  part  of  the  book  is  that  which  deals 
with  the  personal  hfe  of  its  subject.  Few  men  in  his  genera- 
tion had  a  more  striking  personahty  than  ''  Sam  Bowles,"  and 
few  were  more  widely  known.  He  was  a  man  of  strong,  racy, 
many-sided  individuahty, — a  man  richly  worth  knowing  even 
by  report,  if  the  biographer  has  at  aU  succeeded  iu  represent- 
ing his  true  quahty.  It  has  been  my  desire  to  show  him  just 
as  he  was, — in  his  virtues  and  in  his  faults  ;  in  the  successive 
phases  of  his  growth ;  in  the  aspects  in  which  he  disclosed  him- 


PEEFACE.  V 

self  to  the  public,  to  his  friends,  to  his  enemies.  I  have  tried 
to  discern  and  present  the  underljing  and  governing  forces  of 
his  life.  Whatever  has  been  my  success  or  failui'e  ia  this 
attempt,  I  have  at  least  been  able  to  show  one  characteristic 
aspect  of  the  man,  unwarped  and  uncolored  by  any  misin- 
terpreting medium,  in  the  large  selections  from  his  private 
letters.  One  may  say  of  them  what  Emerson  says  of  Mon- 
taigne's essays :  *'  The  sincerity  and  marrow  of  the  man 
reaches  to  his  sentences.  Cut  these  words  and  they  would 
bleed;  they  are  vascular  and  ahve." 

I  acknowledge  warmly  the  generosity  with  which  his  family 
and  his  most  intimate  friends  have  placed  his  coiTespondence 
at  my  disposal.  In  some  cases  with  •  no  small  saciiflce  of 
personal  feehngs,  they  have  contributed  the  material  toward 
showing  him  to  the  world  with  something  of  the  charm  which 
they  knew  in  him.  The  reader  of  the  book  will  scarcely  need 
to  be  apprised  that  while  the  members  of  Mr.  Bowles's  family 
have  given  verj'  valuable  matter  to  the  writer,  he  is  solely  re- 
sponsible for  the  judgments  which  are  expressed. 

For  the  rest,  the  work  must  speak  for  itself.  It  addresses 
itself  to  the  common  interest  of  humanity.  The  writer  says  to 
his  readers :  Behold  a  man  !  Thus  he  looked,  thus  he  acted, 
thus  he  grew;  this  was  his  work,  these  were  his  joys,  these 
were  his  battles,  his  defeats,  his  victories ;  such  was  the  front 
he  wore  to  the  world,  and  so  he  opened  his  heart  to  those  he 
loved ;  this  was  the  outcome  of  his  life,  and  this  is  its  signifi- 
cance and  appeal. 


CONTENTS  OF  VOL.  I. 


PAET  I.    1826- 1S48. 

CHAPTEE  I.— The  Ancestral  Inheritance:  Six  generations  of 
Yankees. —  Samuel  Bowles,  the  father. — Early  struggles. — Estab- 
lishes the  Weekly  Bepublicmi 1-4 

CHAPTER  II. —  The  Early  Environment:  New  England's  first 
two  hundred  years. —  The  seed,  the  soil,  the  tree. — Theocracy  and 
democracy. —  The  Puritan  religion. — The  growth  of  the  nation. — 
Early  Unitarianism. — An  old-time  country  town. —  The  unchanged 
face  ; 5-14 

CHAPTER  III.— Boyhood:  A  New  England  household.— The 
mother. —  The  boy's  moderate  promise. — At  school. —  No  hands. — 
"  Not  much  boyhood  " 15-19 

CHAPTER  rv.— The  Beginning  of  the  Daily  "Republican": 
Son  follows  father. — A  bold  project. —  Life's  load  shouldered 
early. — The  first  break-down. —  Newspaper  letters.  —  A  quarrel, 
a  rival,  and  an  impulse 20-25 

CHAPTER  V. — The  Old  and  the  New  Journalism:  A  new 
epoch  in  journalism  and  politics. —  The  old-time  newspaper  and 
the  new. —  The  Herald  and  the  Tribune.  —  The  old  country 
weekly 26-31 

CHAPTER  VI.— Early  Years  op  Work — Ashmun  and  Calhoun  : 
No  early  brilliancy. — A  hard  worker,  a  good  reporter. — An  un- 
stimulating  community.  —  No  vice  except  overwork. — William  B. 
Calhoun :  "  The  public  man  of  Springfield." —  Services  and  charac- 
ter.— George  Ashmun. — A  master  of  men. — Brings  Douglas  and 
Lincoln  together. —  Devotion  to  Webster. —  Social  charm  . .  32-44 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  vn.— The  Mexica^i  War  and  the  Free-soil  Party: 
Annexation  of  Texas. — Polk  and  Clay. —  Conquest  and  Spoliation 
of  Mexico. —  Whig  opposition. —  The  Wilmot  proviso. —  Webster's 
Springfield  speech. —  The  Abolitionists. —  The  Bejmhlican^s  atti- 
tude.—  The  dilemma  of  the  Northern  conscience. —  Taylor's  nom- 
ination.—  Free-soil  and  Van  Buren. —  Mr.  Bowles's  first  political 
writing. —  "Why  not  a  Free-soiler 45-55 

PART   11.     1S48-1852. 

CHAPTER  Vin. —  Personal  and  Family  Life:  Marriage. —  An 
ally  found  —  and  lost. —  Dr.  Holland  comes. —  The  first  child. — 
Father  dies. —  Overwork  and  sickness 56-60 

CHAPTER  IX. —  The  Developing  Newspaper  :  The  home  nest. — 
Dz'.  Holland :  lay  preaching  and  literature. —  The  two  blades  of 
the  scissors. —  Toil  and  thrift. —  Life-blood  spent  —  and  freely. — 
"We  will  never  take  public  office." — Advance  payments. —  Inde- 
pendence: how  achieved. — The  growing  ideal. — Unwillingness 
to  own  mistakes. —  Independent  journalism  in  a  nut-shell.  .61-72 

CHAPTER  X.— The  Compromise  of  1850  :  Growth  of  anti-slav- 
ery sentiment. —  The  question  as  to  the  new  territory. —  Henry 
Clay's  compromise. —  Webster's  seventh  of  March  speech. —  The 
moral  element  ignored. —  The  Republican's  embarrassment. —  The 
Fugitive  Slave  bill 73-81 

CHAPTER  XI. —  The  Fugitive  Slave  Law:  Compromise  ac- 
cepted.—  Must  we  surrender  fugitive  slaves?  —  Humanity  rersMS 
law. —  Obedience  or  anarchy. —  Shadrach  rescued. —  Simms  re- 
turned.—  Two  kinds  of  mobs. — George  Thompson  in  Springfield. 
—  A  bloodless  riot. —  Democrats  and  Free-soilers  coalesce. —  Sum- 
ner goes  to  the  Senate. —  Degenerate  Whigs. —  The  '52  conven- 
tions surrender  to  the  South. — Party  above  principle 82-96 

PART  IIL     1853-1856. 

CHAPTER  XII. — The  Journalist  at  Work  —  His  Lieutenants  : 
News  first. —  A  new  civilizing  agency. — Working  the  home 
field. — Dr.  Holland's  local  contributions. —  Mr.  Bowles  as  a 
news-gatherer. —  A  traveler. —  Clark  W.  Bryan. —  Election  re- 
turns.—  Business  expands. —  Joseph  E.  Hood. —  Portrayed  by  his 
chief 97-109 


CONTENTS.  ix 

CHAPTER  XIII.—  The  Awakening  of  the  North  :  Douglas  pro- 
poses repeal  of  Missouri  Compromise. —  The  North  roused  at  last. 

—  The  Repuhlican  on  the  new  era. —  "Popular  sovereignty."  —  Its 
uncertain  meaning. —  Kansas-Nebraska  bill  passed. —  How  unite 
the  opposition?  —  The  rendition  of  Burns. —  No  more  slave-hunt- 
ing !  — A  Republican  party  attempted. —  The  rise  of  Know-noth- 
ingism. —  Its  triumph  in  Massachusetts 110-127 

CHAPTER  XrV. —  The  Struggle  in  Kansas  and  in  Massachu- 
setts: Lawful  and  lawless  invasion. — A  usurping  legislature. — 
President  Pierce's  Administration. —  First  anti-slavery  ^detory  at 
Washington. —  Punishing  Judge  Loring. —  Personal  liberty  law. — 
Henry  Wilson. — Philadelphia  Know-nothing  council. —  Organiza- 
tion of  the  Republican  party  in  Massachusetts. —  Its  defeat  by  the 
Know-nothings 128-1-15 

CHAPTER  XV. —  The  Fremont  Campaign:  Brooks's  assault  on 
Sumner. —  Two  confusing  influences. —  Nomination  of  Buchanan. 

—  First  national  Republican  convention. —  The  situation  in  Kan- 
sas.—  In  Massachusetts. —  Governor  Gardner. — Henry  L.  Dawes. 

—  The  character  of  the  Republican  party. —  Defeated,  not  dis- 
couraged  146-161 

CHAPTER  XVI.— Letters  (1851-56) :  To  Charles  Allen,  Henry 
L.  Dawes,  and  Mrs.  Bowles. —  Too  busy  to  go  a-fishing. — A 
convalescent. — "Newspapers  not  machines  to  suppress  informa- 
tion."—  Judge  Loring.  —  Reporting  a  convention. —  Religious 
observances. — All  the  reward  I  seek. —  Don't  croak. —  I  bide  my 
time. — Fremont's  prospects. — The  fight  for  Dawes. — Invited  to 
Philadelphia 162-178 

PART  IV.     1857-1861. 

CHAPTER  XVIL— The  Boston  "Traveller":  Fit  for  a  wider 
field. — An  ambitious  project. —  Its  early  failure. —  The  causes. — 
A  heavy  undertaking:  divided  councils. —  Return  to  the  Be- 
pubUcan 179-188 

CHAPTER  XVIIL—  The  Ripening  Journalist  :  The  education  of 
the  times. — Republicanism,  a  school  of  statesmanship. —  Partisan- 
ship and  independence. —  The  Republican's  declaration  of  inde- 
pendence.—  Instinct  for  news. — Attitude  toward  public  men. — 


X  CONTENTS. 

Fondness  for  change. — Epigrammatic  power. —  Dr.  Holland's  in- 
novations.—  Timothy  Titcomb's  Letters 189-202 

CHAPTER  XIX.—  Personal  Relations  :    As  seen  by  his  readers. 

—  By  his  family. —  Homesickness. — Relish  for  humanity. — Auster- 
ity in  public,  charity  in  private. — Personal  manner. — Attitude 
toward  friends. —  Their  words  about  him. — Burning  his  own 
smoke. —  Love  of  old  associations. — ''  Two  men  in  him."  —  Differ- 
ences and  reconciliations. —  The  nervous  strain. —  Friendships 
with  women 203-218 

CHAPTER  XX. — Dred  Scott  and  Lecompton  :  The  logic  of 
events. —  The  Dred  Scott  decision. — Its  reception  at  the  North. — 
President  Buchanan  and  Governor  Walker. —  The  Lecompton  con- 
vention and  constitution. — A  break  in  the  Democratic  party. — 
Douglas  a  rebel. —  The  English  bill. —  Kansas  free 219-231 

CHAPTER  XXI. —  Douglas  and  Lincoln  :  Shall  the  Republicans 
accept  Douglas?  —  His  fatal  defect. — Abraham  Lincoln. —  Early 
life. — Position  as  to  slavery. —  ''A  house  divided  against  itself." 

—  The  joint  debates.— The  tide  turns 232-245 

CHAPTER  XXII.—  John  Brown  :  The  South  on  the  defensive.— 
The  attack  on  Harper's  Ferry. —  Brown's  character. —  How  judged 
by  the  North  and  by  the  South 246-255 

CHAPTER  XXIII.— The  Election  of  Lincoln:  Disunion  threat- 
ened.—  The  North  incredulous. —  The  Charleston  convention  di- 
vides.—  Nomination  of  Lincoln,  Douglas,  Breckinridge,  Bell. — 
The  menace  of  secession. —  ''Let's  try  it!" 256-268 

CHAPTER  XXIV.— Secession  :  South  Carolina  acts.— The  mo- 
tives of  secession. —  The  North  uncertain. —  Let  them  go. —  Shall 
we  concede  anything  ?  —  The  ultimatum  in  Congress. —  The  Con- 
federacy organized. —  Beleaguered  Sumter. — The  Star  of  the  West. 

—  Seward  pours  oil. —  The  Crittenden  and  Adams  schemes. — Lin- 
coln takes  the  helm. —  Fluctuations  of  opinion. — The  emerging 
purpose. —  The  storm  breaks 269-288 

CHAPTER  XXV.— Letters  (1857-60):  To  Mr.  Allen,  Mr. 
Dawes,  and  Mrs.  Bowles. —  The  Philadelphia  project. —  The  Trav- 
eller.—  Dawes's  first  speech. —  State  polities. —  "Nil  nisi  bonum." 

—  The  day's  work  never  done. —  The  Covernment  printing. — 
Horace  Mann— Thurlow  Weed 289-304 


CONTENTS.  xi 

PAET  V.    1861-1864. 

CHAPTER  XXVL— III  Health:  The  engine  overdriven.— Im- 
possibility of  rest. —  Lack  of  inertia. —  Compensations  of  illness. — 
Crippled  at  the  nation's  crisis. — Among  water-cure  patients. —  Off 
for  Europe 305-315 

CHAPTER  XXVIL— Letters  (1860-62):  To  Mrs.  Bowles,  Chil- 
dren, Mr.  Allen,  Mr.  Dawes,  and  Miss  Whitney.— A  crisis  in  health. 

—  Lincoln  and  Seward. — Recommendations  for  office. —  Better  to 
give  than  receive. —  In  the  White  Mountains. — At  the  Water-cure. 

—  Domestic  details. — Bent  double  with  sciatica.  —  The  convales- 
cent mother. — A  winter  landscape. —  History  and  theology. — Dis- 
cussion of  religion,  philosophy,  life. —  Good-by 316-340 

CHAPTER  XXVIIL— The  Civil  War:  Temper  of  North  and 
South. — A  bird's-eye  view. —  The  uplift  of  spirit. —  The  nation's 
chief. — The  journalist's  part. — How  deal  with  slavery?  —  The 
proclamation. —  Two  objects  instead  of  one. —  The  course  of  par- 
ties.—  Politics  in  Massachusetts. —  Presidential  nominations. — 
What  kind  of  a  peace?  —  Triumph  at  last 341-363 

CHAPTER  XXIX.— In  Europe:  Letters  to  Mrs.  Bowles,  his 
daughter,  Mr.  Allen,  Miss  Whitney,  and  the  Eepiiblican. — Old 
friends  in  England. —  Loneliness. — A  birthday. — Among  the  Alps. 
— Wayside  companions. —  Before  the  Matterhorn. — Across  the  St. 
Theodul. — Wedding-day  at  Chamouny. —  By  the  Lake  of  Geneva. — 
The  war. —  Sense  of  exile. —  Gain  of  health. — Influence  of  high 
mountains 364-385 

CHAPTER  XXX.— Office  AND  Home  — Letters  (1863-64):  The 
growth  of  the  staff. — A  new  home. —  Letters  to  IMrs.  Bowles,  Miss 
Whitney,  F.  B.  Sanborn,  Charles  Allen. —  Suggestions  as  to  making 
a  newspaper. —  A  Sunday  morning. — The  finest  of  epitaphs. — 
The  death  of  friends. —  The  battle  with  disease. — Home  pictures 
for  the  wife  and  mother. — Unitarian  convention. —  Gardening 
and  baby-tending. —  Theodore  Parker. —  Church  organizations. — 
Slavery  abolished :  the  final  scene. —  Honor  to  Massachusetts. — 
Health  the  first  requisite 386-419 


THE    LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF 

SAMUEL   BOWLES. 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  Ancestral  Inheritance. 

SAMUEL  BOWLES  was  born  ou  the  ninth  of  Feb- 
ruary, 1826,  in  the  quiet  country  town  of  Springfield, 
Massachusetts,  and  in  the  beautiful  valley  of  the  Connect- 
icut. He  came  on  both  sides  of  old  New  England  stock. 
His  father,  named  Samuel  also,  had  some  antiquarian 
taste,  and  made  research  into  the  genealogy  of  his  family ; 
faithful,  patient,  and  exact  in  that  as  in  all  he  did.  A 
little  pamphlet  which  he  printed  tells  that  the  English 
family  of  Bowles,  sometimes  spelt  BoUes,  figures  in  the 
records  of  the  genealogist  Burke;  but  that  the  Ameri- 
can family  which  spells  its  name  as  here  printed  was 
descended  from  John  Bowles,  an  elder  in  the  church 
of  Roxbury,  Mass.,  in  1640.  He  was  one  of  the  found- 
ers of  the  Roxbury  Free  School  and  a  member  of  the 
Artillery  Company.  John  the  second  (1653-1691)  was 
baptized  by  the  "  Apostle  Eliot,"  and  married  his  grand- 
daughter; was  graduated  at  Harvard  in  1671;  became 
a  ruling  elder  in  the  church ;  was  elected  a  repre- 
sentative to  the  ''General  Court" — the  Massachusetts 
legislature  —  and  was  speaker  of  the  House.  John  the 
Vol.  I.— 1  1 


2  THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF    SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

third  (1685-1737)  was  also  graduated  at  Harvard  in 
1703  5  was  early  and  long  engaged  in  managing  the 
affairs  of  Roxbury  town ;  and  was  major  in  the  militia, 
and  representative  in  the  General  Court  for  ten  succes- 
sive years.  His  son,  Joshua  Bowles  (1722-1794)  was  a 
carver  of  furniture  in  Boston.  Says  the  pamphleteer, 
the  grandson  of  Joshua :  ''  He  never  had  much  property. 
Indeed,  I  do  not  think  our  ancestors  were  ever  distin- 
guished for  the  acquisition  of  wealth.  But  he  has  been 
represented  to  me  as  a  very  benevolent,  pious  man.  An 
old  lady  who  knew  him  well  in  her  youth,  told  me  that 
when  walking  behind  him  in  the  street,  she  had  heard 
him  praying  audibly.  Like  some  other  good  men  of  his 
day,  he  had  a  queer  way  of  intermingling  religious  and 
secular  thoughts  and  words.  My  father  told  me  that  in 
a  letter  to  him  he  once  wrote :  ^  Dear  Samuel :  Strive  to 
live  in  the  fear  of  God,  and  write  me  word  how  the  boat 
comes  on'  (a  pleasure  or  sail  boat  kept  to  be  let)."  Of 
Joshua's  sons,  two  served  in  the  Revolutionary  war,  as  ser- 
geant and  captain,  but  Samuel,  first  of  the  name  (1762- 
1813),  was  only  thirteen  years  old  when  the  war  broke  out. 
In  those  troubled  times  he  got  but  scanty  schooling, 
at  the  hands  of  Master  Tileston,  a  well-known  Boston 
school-teacher.  He  and  his  wife  grew  up  under  the  relig- 
ious influences  of  the  ''  Old  South  Church."  He  learned 
the  pewterer's  trade,  found  his  business  spoiled  by  the 
war,  went  to  Hartford,  Conn.,  and  kept  a  grocery  store, 
in  which  he  seems  to  have  thriven  in  a  modest  way. 
His  son  writes :  ''  He  was  a  man  of  good  sense,  quick 
wit,  tender  feelings,  and  strict  honesty.  Though  not  a 
member  of  any  church,  he  was  a  faithful  and  liberal 
member  of  the  Baptist  Society,  and  governed  by  a  sense 
of  religious  duty  in  bringing  up  his  family." 

*'  Good  sense,  tender  feelings,  strict  honesty,  sense  of 
religious  duty" — true  marks  these  are   all  of  his  son 


THE   A^^CESTEAL   INHEKITANCE.  6 

Samuel  (1797-1851),  who  has  part  in  our  story  as  father 
of  its  hero.  ''Quick  wit"  could  hardly  be  ascribed  to 
him :  he  was  slow  in  his  mental  action ;  cautious,  canny, 
thrifty ;  a  prim,  sober  man,  respected  and  trusted  by  every 
one  ;  laughed  at  sometimes  for  little  stiffnesses  and  odd- 
ities ;  undemonstrative  in  his  family,  as  was  the  wont 
of  New  Englanders,  but  with  warm  and  faithful  affec- 
tions. He  received  as  a  boy  a  common-school  education, 
went  into  his  father's  shop  at  the  age  of  fifteen,  and  at 
his  father's  death  a  year  later  inherited  nothing  but  an 
old  gold  watch  and  the  family  Bible.  He  was  then  ap- 
prenticed to  a  printer.  "  During  my  apprenticeship,"  he 
wrote  in  his  matm'ity,  "  I  was  one  of  some  ten  or  fifteen 
who  formed  an  association  for  the  improvement  of  the 
mind.  I  was  one  of  the  most  zealous  and  steadfast  of 
the  club  till  it  ran  down.  We  met  once  a  week,  had  dis- 
cussions and  listened  to  readings,  original  and  selected. 
Here  I  acquired  a  taste  for  reading  and  mental  cultiva- 
tion. Before  this  my  inclination  was  almost  entirely  for 
social  pleasure  and  for  evening  carousals  with  young  as- 
sociates. And  I  was  not  very  particular  in  the  choice  of 
my  company.  My  connection  with  the  debating  club  I 
consider  an  important  era  in  my  life  —  a  sort  of  redeem- 
ing season,  saving  me  from  dangerous  tendencies.  It 
gave  a  good  direction  to  my  habits,  strengthening  my 
mind  to  resist  temptation,  and  led  me  to  prefer  mental 
to  sensual  pleasure."  When  his  apprenticeship  was  com- 
pleted, he  worked  at  the  printing  trade  for  six  years,  as 
journeyman  and  foreman,  in  Hartford  and  New  Haven. 
These  were  years  of  struggle  and  dubious  success ;  he 
was  embarrassed  by  incompetent  associates,  got  in  debt, 
and  underwent  some  hardships.  While  in  Hartford  he 
was  prostrated  for  the  greater  part  of  a  year  by  typhus 
fever  of  extraordinary  severity ;  a  most  luckless  illness 
for  himself  and  his  posterity,  for  it  left  him  with  a  weak- 


4  THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

ness  of  the  bowels  which  became  chronic,  and  his  death 
resulted  from  an  attack  of  dysentery;  while  a  weak 
digestive  system  was  inherited  by  his  children,  and  to 
his  son  Samuel  was  a  misfortune  through  life.  But 
the  young  printer  struggled  pluckily  on,  and  in  the 
course  of  time  took  to  himself  a  wife,  Miss  Huldah  Dem- 
ing,  of  "Wethersfleld,  a  woman  of  goodness,  sense,  and 
energy,  a  descendant  of  the  Pui'itan  captain.  Miles 
Standish.  In  1824  the  young  printer  undertook  the  en- 
terprise of  a  new  weekly  paper  in  Springfield.  He  came 
up  the  river  in  a  flat-boat,  with  his  young  wife  and 
their  baby  daughter,  Julia,  bringing  a  hand  printing- 
press  and  some  scanty  furnishing  for  the  new  home. 
Friends  in  Springfield  advanced  a  little  money,  and  on 
the  eighth  of  September  appeared  the  Springfield  Bepuh- 
lican.  Proprietor,  publisher,  editor,  reporter,  compositor, 
and  pressman  appear  to  have  been  united  in  Samuel 
Bowles ;  and  it  must  be  owned  by  one  who  reads  the  first 
numbers  of  the  paper  that  one  man  might  have  produced 
it  all  without  any  dangerous  strain  on  his  powers.  But 
it  was  the  day  of  small  things  in  journalism,  and  the 
Republican  satisfied  the  moderate  requirements  of  the 
newspaper  readers  of  that  day.  It  had  at  the  start  two 
hundred  and  fifty  subscribers,  at  two  doUars  a  year ;  it 
slowly  and  steadily  prospered,  outran  or  absorbed  its 
local  rivals,  and  seems  to  have  soon  yielded  a  modest 
but  sufficient  livelihood  for  its  proprietor  and  his  grow- 
ing family.  His  first  child,  Albert,  was  born  in  1823, 
and  lived  but  seven  months ;  the  next  was  Julia ;  then, 
in  the  second  year  of  his  residence  in  Springfield,  came 
the  son  who  was  named  after  his  father  and  grandfather; 
and  to  these  succeeded  another  daughter,  Amelia,  and 
another  son,  Benjamin  Franklin.  All  of  these  except 
the  first-born  lived  to  maturity. 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  Early  Environment. 

THE  generation  to  which  "Sam  Bowles"  belonged — 
for  by  that  name  every  one  called  the  magnetic  and 
mercurial  man,  whom  the  stiff  Biblical  trisyllable  Samuel 
never  fitted — was  the  generation  in  which  New  England 
broke  through  the  sheath  of  Puritanism,  and  flowered 
into  broader  and  more  various  life.  Two  centuries  be- 
fore, certain  grave  and  resolute  Englishmen  had  turned 
their  backs  on  the  refinements  and  corruptions  of  the 
Old  World,  to  found  a  pure  spiritual  commonwealth  in 
the  wilderness.  They  and  their  descendants  had  been 
trained  in  a  confiict  for  existence  under  rigorous  physical 
conditions.  They  had  been  compelled  to  win  a  livelihood 
from  soil  which  asks  a  hard  price  for  all  it  yields.  They 
had  battled  with  a  climate  of  extreme  and  swift  fiuctua- 
tions.  They  had  been  separated  by  the  ocean's  breadth 
from  the  resources  with  which  the  Old  World  ministered 
to  comfort,  taste,  and  imagination.  Three  advantages 
attended  them : — they  came  of  picked  English  stock,  they 
were  free  from  all  political  inequalities  among  themselves, 
and  their  community  was  founded  under  a  lofty  religious 
impulse.  Two  hundred  years  had  developed  and  con- 
firmed them  as  a  shrewd,  serious,  hard-headed  people. 
They  had  grown  strong  in  the  robust  qualities  of  man- 
hood.   Nature  had  said  to   each  man,  "  Work  or  you 


6    THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES  OF  SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

starve  ! "  Society  had  said  to  eacli  man,  ''  Work,  and 
all  yon  get  shall  be  your  own ! "  So  they  became  reso- 
lute and  patient  to  labor  and  careful  to  save.  The 
fields  of  interest  open  to  them  were  the  household,  the 
political  community,  and  the  divine  realm  of  which  the 
visible  symbol  was  the  church.  In  these  currents  ran 
the  New  Englauder's  life,  in  a  stream  quiet,  somber, 
and  deep. 

The  ideal  at  which  the  founders  of  New  England  aimed 
was  a  theocracy.  The  peculiarity  of  their  theocracy  was 
that  it  assumed,  as  the  authoritative  interpreter  of  the 
divine  will,  not  any  official  class,  but  a  book — and  a  book 
on  whose  interpretation  no  one  could  place  a  limit.  In 
the  practical  government  of  the  community  they  followed 
the  forms  and  usages  which  had  grown  up  during  many 
centuries  of  English  life,  but  subject  to  certain  modifica- 
tions :  —  there  was  no  privileged  class ;  the  authority  of 
crown  and  parliament  was  remote,  and  when  it  began  to 
press  closely  was  thrown  off  altogether ;  and  the  imme- 
diate affairs  of  each  town  and  hamlet  were  ordered  by  its 
inhabitants  in  a  popular  assembly.  The  clergy,  though 
not  invested  with  secular  authority,  were  for  a  long  time 
the  most  influential  class  in  the  community.  With  the 
progress  of  time  the  political  and  religious  life  of  the 
community  flowed  more  and  more  into  separate  chan- 
nels. The  decadence  of  the  Puritan  theology  is  to  be 
measured,  not  so  much  by  open  revolt  against  it,  as  by 
the  withdrawal  of  intellectual  energies  into  other  fields. 
The  two  great  and  antithetical  intellects  which  New  Eng- 
land produced  in  the  eighteenth  century  were  Jonathan 
Edwards  and  Benjamin  Franklin, —  the  one  a  metaphy- 
sician and  mystic,  the  other  a  man  of  science,  of  public 
affairs,  and  of  philanthropic  humanity.  Franklin  got  his 
chance  by  going  to  Philadelphia  and  thence  to  England ; 
he  would  not  have  found  room  enough  in  Massachu- 


THE   EAELY   ENVIRONMENT.  7 

setts.  Then  the  Revohition  brought  to  the  front  the 
lawyers,  the  soldiers,  the  statesmen,  and  left  the  clergy 
compai'atively  in  the  rear.  The  temper  of  the  Revolu- 
tionary patriots  was  far  different  from  that  of  Cromwell's 
Ironsides.  With  the  next  generation  came  the  disestab- 
lishment of  the  Congregational  churches.  Then,  slowly 
at  first,  began  the  prodigious  development  of  the  physical 
resoui'ces  of  the  country ;  then  came  invention,  discovery, 
enrichment ;  and  men,  toughened  but  cramped  for  two 
centuries,  found  a  continent  beckoning  them  to  stride 
into  possession.  There  was  expansion  of  energy  and 
opportunity  in  every  direction. 

While  the  collective  forces  of  the  community  had 
thus  been  undergoing  a  gradual  diversion  from  the 
ecclesiastical  into  the  secular  field,  the  religious  life  — 
that  which  was  recognized  as  such  —  still  remained  one 
of  the  most  striking  features  of  the  New  England  devel- 
opment. The  '^  meeting-house  "  was  the  most  conspicuous 
building  in  every  town,  and  the  church  society  ranked  as 
first  beyond  comparison  among  social  organizations. 

Religion  may  be  said  in  a  broad  sense  to  include  three 
elements — theology,  worship,  and  ethics;  in  other  words, 
an  intellectual  explanation  of  the  universe,  a  conscious 
relation  of  the  human  soul  to  the  divine  and  infinite,  and 
an  ordering  of  the  practical  conduct  of  life.  Puritanism 
made  theology  the  corner-stone  of  religion.  Theoreti- 
cally it  took  the  Bible  as  its  law;  but  what  it  really 
offered  was  a  scheme  of  the  universe;  —  God  in  three 
persons ;  the  race  of  man  ruined  through  the  sin  of  its 
first  parent ;  a  sacrificial  atonement ;  the  appropriation 
of  that  atonement  through  faith  as  the  sole  condition  of 
an  eternal  Heaven,  and  its  rejection  the  seal  of  an  end- 
less perdition.  This  view  confronted  the  soul  directly 
with  the  most  tremendous  realities  and  immeasurable 
issues.    It  was  a  view  which  in  its  essentials  was  com- 


8  THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

mon  to  all  branclies  of  the  Christian  church ;  but  in  its 
practical  application  was  elsewhere  softened,  by  inter- 
mediary elements  of  priesthood  and  sacrament,  and  ven- 
erable and  beautiful  forms  of  worship.  Puritanism 
steadily  rejected  all  such  aids  and  interpositions,  and 
set  the  trembling  soul  face  to  face  with  its  Maker,  whose 
sovereign  decree  had  destined  it  irreversibly  to  measure- 
less bliss  or  woe.  The  Puritans  renounced  the  authority 
and  mediation  of  the  church  on  which  the  soul  might 
comfortably  repose ;  they  rejected  the  vision  of  inter- 
ceding saints  filling  the  air ;  angelic  ministrations  faded 
almost  out  of  view,  while  Satanic  activity  was  vividly 
imagined ;  and  the  liturgies  and  forms  of  worship  which 
the  genius  of  ages  had  enriched  were  almost  wholly 
thrown  aside.  The  English  Puritans  turned  Beauty  out 
of  the  service  of  Religion.  For  their  American  descend- 
ants, the  resulting  barrenness  was  intensified  by  the 
absence  of  all  artistic  creations  in  the  New  World.  The 
worshiper  had  no  aid  to  his  imagination  from  sculptured 
aisle  or  swelling  organ ;  no  gi*acious  Madonna  looked 
down  on  him ;  the  prayers  to  which  he  silently  listened 
were  but  the  improvisation  of  his  minister ;  the  beauty 
of  nature  was  without  meaning  for  him.  The  spirit  of 
worship  languished  in  so  thin  and  innutritions  an  at- 
mosphere, and  the  mass  of  the  community  tended  to  a 
dry  formalism  in  their  religious  observances,  save  when 
lifted  by  the  wave  of  a  "  revival."  But  the  theological 
spirit  was  very  active.  The  founders  of  New  England 
included  many  clergymen  among  their  leaders,  and  most 
of  these  were  Oxford  or  Cambridge  graduates.  In  every 
town  they  planted  the  school  beside  the  church,  and  no 
population  in  the  world  had  so  high  an  average  of  edu- 
cation. In  the  dearth  of  literary  and  social  resources, 
the  minds  of  the  clergy,  and  largely  of  the  intellectual 
class  in  general,  continued  to  work  eagerly  and  unceas- 


THE   EAKLY   ENVIRONMENT.  9 

ingly  on  the  problems  of  the  universe.  The  main  line 
of  their  speculation  was  a  series  of  modifications  of  Cal- 
vinism. The  attempt  to  apply  these  abstruse  specula- 
tions to  the  conduct  of  individual  life  produced  a  strange 
result.  A  highly  metaphysical  system  was  made  the 
basis  upon  which  every  man  must  work  out  his  salvation 
from  hell,  and  a  mystic  experience  of  conviction  of  sin, 
self-despair,  and  conversion  was  required  of  the  soul  with 
the  definiteness  of  an  apothecarj^'s  prescription.  It  was 
a  theory  of  life  which  gave  constant  exercise  to  specu- 
lative natures ;  by  turns  exalted  and  depressed  the  sen- 
sitive ;  and  lost  its  practical  hold  on  the  mass  of  the 
community  long  before  it  was  confessedly  modified  by 
the  clergy. 

But  Puritanism,  while  it  was  narrow  in  its  philosophy, 
and  by  its  lack  of  beauty  and  of  tenderness  stinted  the 
fountains  of  spiritual  feeling,  was  strong  in  its  appeal  to 
moral  purpose.  It  roused  men  with  the  idea  of  a  great 
destiny.  Its  tremendous  presentation  of  the  issues  of 
existence  woke  an  energy  like  that  which  is  inspired  by 
man's  conflict  with  the  elemental  forces  of  nature.  The 
ideal  of  conduct  which  it  offered  was  austere  but  lofty. 
It  appealed  to  the  sense  of  obligation  rather  than  to 
S}Tnpathy  or  delight.  It  made  men  strong  rather  than 
sweet ;  it  made  them  sober,  chaste,  and  upright.  From 
whatever  source  derived, — from  Puritanism,  from  the 
older  Christianity,  from  English  stock,  from  Hebrew  re- 
ligion, from  primitive  humanity, —  the  sense  of  duty  lay 
deep  in  the  New  England  character.  Conscience  was  the 
bed-rock  of  the  typical  New  Englauder,  as  granite  is  the 
foundation  of  his  soil.  Deficient  in  spiritual  imagination, 
severely  logical  in  intellect,  he  was  in  the  practical  con- 
duct of  life  the  loyal  servant  of  Duty.  To  Calvinist, 
Unitarian,  or  Rationalist  the  sovereign  ^vord  was  I  ought. 

The  interests  of  the  state  had  an  absorbing  interest 


10        THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

for  its  citizens  sucli  as  is  hardly  known  in  our  modern 
community,  whose  tastes  are  fed  from  a  thousand  sources 
of  literature,  art,  and  amusement.  Almost  every  man 
was  a  politician.  It  was  not  merely  that  each  had  a  stake 
and  a  voice  in  the  commonwealth,  but  in  their  monoto- 
nous lives  the  place  of  theater,  travel,  and  newspaper  was 
filled  by  political  debate. 

To  the  Puritan  fathers,  the  chief  end  of  all  human 
doings  had  been  the  salvation  of  the  soul  from  future 
perdition.  They  regarded  the  ordering  of  the  state  as 
only  an  incidental  step  in  this  process.  But  under  the 
practical  necessities  of  their  situation,  they  and  their 
descendants  had  worked  out  the  experiment  of  political 
democracy,  under  the  most  favorable  conditions  that  had 
ever  existed  for  it.  In  and  after  the  Revolutionary  war, 
the  sister  commonwealths  had  entered  on  the  vastly  more 
difficult  experiment  of  a  great  federal  democracy.  In 
this  creative  epoch  of  the  new  nation  there  were  found  a 
large  group  of  men  with  rare  capacity  for  nation-build- 
ing,— men  trained  under  the  Puritan  traditions  of  New 
England,  in  the  mingled  Dutch  and  English  school  of 
New  York,  in  the  softened  Quakerism  of  Pennsylvania, 
and  the  aristocratic  democracy  of  Virginia  and  the  Caro- 
linas.  The  foundations  were  settled  ;  the  great  question 
between  federal  and  state  authority  reached  a  stable 
equilibrium;  then  followed  nearly  half  a  century  in 
which  the  young  political  system  was  exercised  in  only 
moderate  difficulties,  as  if  getting  well  knit  for  the  tre- 
mendous tasks  and  problems  awaiting  it.  But  the  strug- 
gles between  Whigs  and  Democrats,  about  tariffs  and 
national  banks  and  internal  improvements  —  the  com- 
bats of  Jacksonians  and  Clay  men  and  Adams  men  — 
these,  besides  their  intrinsic  importance,  shared  with 
religion  in  furnishing  the  chief  intellectual  exercise  of 
a  people  poor  as  yet  in  literary  and  artistic  develop- 


THE   EAPtLY   ENVIEONMENT.  11 

ment ;  and  they  were  a  constant  training  in  tlie  noblest 
and  most  complex  of  social  arts — the  self-government 
of  the  community.  Religion  and  polities  were  the  two 
main  subjects  of  thought  in  the  community  in  which 
young  Sam  Bowles  grew  to  manhood.  It  was  these 
themes  that  gave  zest  and  largeness  to  lives  otherwise 
somewhat  dry  and  narrow;  on  these  topics  wits  were 
sharpened;  from  these  came  a  touch  of  ideal  greatness; 
from  these  sprang  passions  nobler  even  in  their  excesses 
than  the  struggle  for  material  gain, —  a  consciousness  of 
membership  in  a  mighty  body  politic,  and  a  sense  of 
place  in  a  divine  order  transcending  the  seen  and  finite. 

The  primitive  period  of  New  England  may  be  taken 
with  sufficient  exactness  at  two  hundred  years, —  lapping 
over  by  a  quarter  of  a  century  into  the  nineteenth.  It 
was  not  until  then  that  its  second  great  function  began 
in  pouring  its  sons  forth  to  people  the  West,  while  from 
Europe  there  set  in  a  tide  of  immigration  which  is  chang- 
ing the  constituent  elements  of  the  population.  Since 
then,  too,  there  have  come  immeasurable  changes  in  the 
conditions  of  intellectual  and  social  life.  It  was  just  as 
the  old  was  broadening  into  the  new  that  the  boy  of  our 
story  grew  up  to  manhood.  The  surroundings  of  his 
childhood  retained  in  large  measure  the  characteristics  of 
the  early  time.  He  belonged  to  a  family  and  a  commu- 
nity of  which  the  inheritance  and  possession  were  sobri- 
ety, industry,  and  self-control,  unmodified  by  literature, 
art,  and  the  social  graces  and  amenities. 

The  Unitarian  controversy  had  arisen  in  Massachusetts 
a  few  years  before  the  elder  Bowles  came  to  Springfield, 
and  he  united  with  the  Unitarian  church,  which  had  been 
established  there  by  a  secession  from  the  old  First 
Church  that  was  coeval  with  the  town.  In  the  separa- 
tion the  families  of  higher  social  pretensions  went 
generally  with  the  new  movement,  and  the  ecclesiastical 


12        THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

schism  divided  the  society  of  the  town,  not  with  viru- 
lence, yet  to  the  weakening  of  the  social  forces.  Early 
Unitarianism  was  but  a  ripening  of  a  long-growing 
alienation  among  the  intellectual  class  from  the  severi- 
ties of  Calvinism.  It  was  from  the  beginning  intel- 
lectual, decorous,  reverent,  rather  than  popular  and 
enthusiastic.  Its  ministers  kept  with  little  alteration 
the  ecclesiastical  tone  of  their  Orthodox  brethren,  and 
a  solemnity  verging  sometimes  on  lugubriousness.  Of 
such  ministers  was  the  Reverend  William  B.  O.  Peabody, 
pastor  of  the  Unitarian  church  in  Springfield  from 
1820  to  1847.  He  was  a  man  of  piety,  refinement,  and 
intellectual  cultivation,  whose  name  is  still  held  in 
honored  memory  in  the  denomination,  and  by  the  com- 
munity at  large.  Dr.  Horatio  Stebbins's  testimony  shows 
how  one  youthful  mind  was  affected  by  his  ministry : 
"  Here  Peabody  prophesied  and  prayed,  and  his  words 
fell  upon  my  heart  like  rain  upon  the  tender  grass  ;  and 
my  mature  experience  makes  no  abatement  from  my 
boyhood's  impression  of  the  singular  elevation  of  his 
mind,  and  the  penetrating  purity  of  his  spirit."  Yet  to 
most  of  his  youthful  auditors.  Dr.  Peabody  was  awe- 
inspiring  rather  than  winning.  In  his  sermons  he  laid 
constant  emphasis  on  the  perils,  the  woes,  and  trausitori- 
ness  of  the  present  life.  The  sentiments  of  a  creed  outlive 
for  a  time  its  intellectual  form  ;  and  the  view  of  earthly 
life  as  tolerable  only  because  it  may  lead  to  something 
better  —  a  view  inherited  from  the  burdened  Middle  Ages 
—  colored  much  of  the  preaching  of  the  early  Unitarians. 
Dr.  Peabody  used  to  wear  in  the  pulpit  a  black  gown 
and  black  silk  gloves.  His  manner  and  tones,  both  in 
and  out  of  the  pulpit,  were  to  a  child  decidedly  solemniz- 
ing. Of  his  church  the  elder  Bowles  was  a  steadfast 
member ;  he  became  a  deacon  and  superintendent  of  the 
Sunday-school.    His  children  went  to  church  twice  every 


THE   EAKLY  ENVIRONMENT.  13 

Sunday.  In  their  home  were  practiced  the  usual  re- 
ligious observances,  family  prayers  every  morning,  and 
the  ''  blessing  "  before  each  meal. 

The  stream  of  the  community's  life  flowed  slow  and 
tranquil  as  the  Connecticut  that  glides  through  the 
level  meadows.  The  first  railroad  reached  Springfield 
when  the  boy  was  thirteen  years  old;  and  just  as  he 
was  coming  of  age  the  fii-st  message  was  flashed  over 
the  telegraph  wires.  Steam  and  electricity  are  fit  sym- 
bols, as  well  as  agents,  of  the  revolution  that  has  gone 
through  American  society  since  then. 

In  those  days  Springfield  was  a  country  town,  its 
inhabitants  principally  farmers,  centering  in  a  village 
of  residences  and  a  few  shops.  It  was  settled,  in  1636, 
by  a  colony  from  Roxbury,  Mass.,  shared  the  experiences 
of  colonial  times,  and  was  burned  by  the  Indians  in 
King  Philip's  war.  It  drew  its  prosperity  mainly  from 
the  fertile  meadows  bordering  the  Connecticut,  and 
remained  the  principal  town  in  Western  Massachusetts, 
but  with  no  special  importance  or  marked  growth  until 
it  became  a  railroad  center,  at  the  intersection  of  the 
great  lines  joining  Boston  with  Albany  and  New  York 
with  Northern  New  England  and  Canada.  The  town 
had  the  characteristic  features  of  New  England  life, 
with  probably  more  general  prosperity  along  the  rich 
river  basin  than  was  found  on  the  granite-ribbed,  bowl- 
der-strewn soil  which  characterizes  much  of  the  state ; 
while  of  mental  activity  there  was  less  than  in  Eastern 
Massachusetts.  The  families  which  were  recognized  as  the 
social  aristocracy  of  the  town  derived  their  consequence 
from  wealth  acquired  in  local  trade  by  themselves  or  their 
immediate  ancestors.  The  United  States  Armory  gave 
employment  to  a  class  of  sturdy  and  intelligent  mechanics. 

The  natural  scenery  of  the  region  is  full  of  various 
and  tranquil  beauty.     The   Connecticut,  here   about  a 


14       THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

fourth  of  a  mile  in  width,  loiters  between  its  verdant 
banks,  like  a  great  meadow-brook ;  beside  it,  like  a  nest 
by  the  brook-side,  lies  the  town  of  Springfield,  ascending 
by  gently  sloping  hills,  and  running  off  eastward  over 
dry  and  breezy  plains.  From  many  a  knoll  and  terrace 
one  may  look  upon  endless  variations  of  the  broad,  fair 
landscape, — the  placid  river  flowing  in  the  midst;  away 
to  the  west,  the  blue  hill-country  of  Berkshire ;  eastward, 
the  wooded  and  pastured  slopes  of  the  Wilbraham  hills, 
answering  the  aspects  of  the  sky  in  ever-changing  play 
of  light  and  shade ;  twenty  miles  to  the  north,  the  sharp 
outlines  of  the  Holyoke  range,  and  Mount  Tom  lying 
like  a  couchant  lion.  Over  the  meadows  are  scattered 
noble  elms ;  elms  and  maples  line  the  streets  of  the 
town,  so  that,  seen  from  the  neighboring  heights,  it 
seems  to  lie  in  a  forest.  The  landscape  is  clothed  through 
the  summer  in  richest  green,  heralded  in  the  spring  by 
marvelously  delicate  and  various  tints,  and  ripening  into 
autumnal  glory.  Across  the  brown  soil  of  March  the 
flash  of  a  bluebird's  wing  and  a  thrilling  song  tell  that 
winter  is  past.  Over  the  waving  grass-fields  of  June, 
the  bobolink,  tipsy  with  joy,  pours  his  bubbling  laughter. 
From  the  arbutus  to  the  aster,  a  long  procession  of  flow- 
ers mark  the  year's  almanac, — shy  northern  blossoms, 
hardy  darlings  of  the  frost,  and  hues  warm  as  the  tropics. 
Up  and  down  the  river  lie  ancient  villages,  flavorous  of 
the  olden  time ;  the  one  broad  street  overarched  with 
patriarchal  trees,  the  fine  old  houses  dreaming  over  their 
past.  The  tall  chimneys  of  the  outlying  mill  villages, 
growth  of  the  last  half -century,  even  now  scarcely  break 
the  aspect  of  rural  peace,  which  steals  in  soothing  de- 
light over  the  beholder's  heart.  To-day,  as  fifty  years 
ago,  one  looks  on  the  homes  of  a  thriving,  free,  and  \dr- 
tuous  people  ;  —  now,  as  then,  he  looks  on  Nature  in  her 
aspect  of  peaceful  charm. 


CHAPTER  III. 
Boyhood. 

THE  Bowles  family  formed  a  hard-working,  frugal 
household ;  united  by  a  deep  but  undemonstrative 
affection ;  pushing  on  with  slow  steps  and  sure  grip  to 
moderate  prosperity ;  sincerely  and  decently  pious  ;  with 
little  of  recreation  or  social  enjojTuent.  Their  home 
was  in  a  modest  two-story  frame  house,  on  the  north 
corner  of  Union  and  School  streets.  The  oldest  son  was 
born  in  an  earlier  residence,  known  afterward  as  the 
"  Osgood  house,"  near  the  corner  of  Main  and  Howard 
streets.  The  family  consisted  of  father,  mother,  four 
children,  and  several  apprentices.  Sam  shared  his  bed 
with  the  youngest  apprentice,  Chauncey  White,  who 
afterward  became  his  foreman,  and  two  other  appren- 
tices had  their  bed  in  the  same  room.  The  day  began 
with  breakfast  at  six  o'clock,  the  year  round,  and  at 
seven  the  master  and  apprentices  were  at  work ;  doing  a 
general  printing  business  in  addition  to  the  newspaper. 
The  mistress  of  the  household  had  a  potent  voice  in  all 
her  husband's  affairs.  She  was  a  woman  of  plain  exte- 
rior, of  quiet  and  prim  manners,  under  which  lay  energy 
and  spirit ;  even-tempered ;  with  quicker,  more  inci- 
sive mind  than  that  of  her  husband,  and  greater  force  of 
character  and  will ;  practical  rather  than  intellectual  in 


16        THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

her  tastes ;  of  decided  religious  character ;  a  good  wife 
and  good  mother.  ^'  She  was  smart  as  a  whip/'  says  an 
apprentice  of  those  days ;  "  she  knew  as  much  of  the 
ofi&ce  as  her  husband  did."  Of  the  two  parents  it  was 
the  mother  to  whom  the  son  bore  more  intellectual  like- 
ness. But  it  was  the  common  remark  in  later  years  that 
Sam  Bowles  was  not  like  his  parents, — was  not  like  any- 
body but  himself.  In  his  boyhood  he  seems  to  have 
given  no  indication  of  anything  remarkable  in  mind  or 
character,  nothing  in  any  way  salient  or  striking.  He 
was  a  good  boy,  not  wayward,  not  infected  with  any 
vice ;  obedient,  in  the  fashion  of  those  days  when  obe- 
dience was  the  first  element  of  family  training  ;  making 
friendships  with  other  boys,  some  of  which — with  David 
A.  Wells,  Charles  O.  Chapin,  F.  H.  Harris,  and  others  — 
lasted  through  a  life-time ;  given  to  admiration  of  one 
girlish  charmer  after  another,  for  the  village  boys  and 
girls  met  freely  in  the  wholesome  American  way ;  with 
little  relish  for  boyish  sports,  but  a  marked  fondness, 
when  he  did  take  part,  for  being  leader  and  captain ; 
with  no  aptitude  or  inclination  for  manual  work ;  as  a 
student,  faithful,  rather  slow  in  acquisition,  but  retentive 
of  what  was  once  learned. 

He  went  to  the  public  high  school,  taught  by  Dr.  Vail, 
and  afterward,  at  the  age  of  thirteen  or  perhaps  earlier, 
to  the  private  school  of  Mr.  George  Eaton,  which  he 
attended  for  several  years,  completing  there  his  school 
education.  Mr.  Eaton  is  remembered  by  his  old  pupils 
with  high  regard.  His  scholars,  boys  and  girls,  were 
mostly  from  Unitarian  families  in  Springfield.  Young 
Sam  Bowles,  in  addition  to  the  usual  English  studies, 
made  some  progress  in  Latin,  and  read  portions  of  Csesar, 
Virgil,  and  Cicero.  He  wished  to  go  to  college,  and  had 
Mr.  Eaton's  sympathy  and  encouragement  in  that  desire, 
but  his  father  did  not  approve  of  the  project  and  it 


BOYHOOD.  17 

was  not  carried  out.  In  later  years  Mr.  Bowles  was 
wont  to  speak  of  this  as  a  severe  disappointment, 
and  the  want  of  a  college  training  was  a  life-long  regret 
to  him. 

The  father's  first  purpose  was  that  his  oldest  son  should 
learn  the  printer's  trade,  just  as  he  had  done ;  but  he  was 
sometimes  discouraged,  and  feared  the  boy  would  never 
succeed,  because  he  had  so  little  skill  with  his  hands.  If 
a  kite  was  to  be  made,  or  so  much  as  a  nail  driven,  his 
younger  sister  was  apt  to  be  called  to  his  help.  To  the 
end  of  his  life,  his  hands — long,  pale,  delicate — had  a 
look  of  helplessness.  He  did  once  go  into  the  printing- 
room  for  the  purpose  of  regularly  learning  its  art  and 
mystery;  but  a  few  hours  of  type-setting  was  enough 
for  him,  and  he  left  at  the  end  of  the  fii'st  half-day. 
At  odd  times  he  picked  up,  after  a  fashion,  the  mechan- 
ical part  of  the  business,  but  never  so  far  as  to  have 
any  expertness  in  it. 

The  Yankee  boy  of  those  times  was  wont  to  have 
a  regular  set  of  "chores"  to  do,  such  as  cutting  and 
bringing  in  wood,  making  fires,  and  the  like.  But  whei^ 
there  were  apprentices  in  the  family,  custom  assigned 
this  work  to  the  youngest  of  them ;  so  Sam  escaped  these 
labors,  except  when  his  father  especially  allotted  to  him 
a  piece  of  manual  work,  and  even  then  he  could  some- 
times coax  one  of  his  companions  to  act  as  substitute. 
Yet  he  was  trained  in  various  ways,  as  a  boy  in  those 
days  could  hardly  fail  to  be,  '^  to  make  himself  useful." 
He  di'ove  the  cows  to  and  from  their  pasture,  carried  the 
"Weekly  Bepuhlican  to  a  round  of  subscribers,  and  had 
more  or  less  outdoor  and  indoor  work  to  do.  One  sum- 
mer, when  he  was  perhaps  fifteen,  his  father  put  him  in 
charge  of  the  garden,  and  he  kept  it  in  trimmest  con- 
dition, disciplining  the  other  childi-en  if  they  let  a  paper 
or  a  wisp  of  straw  lie  in  the  paths.  He  was  very  neat  in 
Vol.  I.— 2 


18        THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF    SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

his  person  and  clothes,  not  solicitous  about  the  style  and 
fit  of  his  garments,  but  fastidious  as  to  their  condition, 
showing  in  this  respect  a  delicacy  and  daintiness  which 
was  characteristic  of  him  through  life. 

Mr.  Eaton  was  in  the  habit  of  taking  his  scholars  once 
a  week  on  a  ramble  in  the  woods.  The  favorite  resort  was 
Blake's  Woods,  a  noble  pine  forest  near  the  town,  of  which 
a  sadly  reduced  remnant  yet  lingers  as  one  of  the  chief  or- 
naments of  the  place.  Here  the  teacher,  enthusiastic  and 
sympathetic,  gave  his  pupils  one  of  the  finest  and  most 
serviceable  elements  of  education,  by  wakening  in  them 
the  love  of  Nature.  Some  of  the  boys,  Sam  Bowles  among 
them,  used  to  make  up  parties  to  bring  flowers  from  the 
more  distant  woods  and  swamps.  He  was  in  those  days 
shooting  up  fast  into  a  tall,  slender  boy;  carrying  his 
head  a  little  projected  forward,  as  was  also  his  father's 
habit ;  finding  companions  and  favorites  among  the 
girls  that  visited  his  sisters  ;  spending  his  time  in  school, 
in  the  family,  a  little  in  his  father's  office,  and  sometimes 
in  evening  gatherings  of  the  young  folks  at  each  other's 
houses.  He  was  never  an  adept  at  skating,  ball-playing, 
and  such  boyish  exercises,  nor  very  fond  of  them.  His 
comrades  had  hard  work  to  coax  him  out  to  join  them  in 
coasting  down  the  long  hills  near  by ;  or  if  he  kept  them 
company  for  once  in  the  thrilling  swift  descent,  the  long 
upward  trudge  was  so  little  to  his  liking  that  he  soon 
returned  to  the  house.  No  doubt  this  distaste  for  hardy 
sports  was  partly  due  to  some  want  of  physical  vigor ;  for 
though  his  health  as  a  boy  was  fairly  good,  it  was  never 
robust;  there  was  no  surplus  or  overflow  of  vitality. 
His  favorite  occupation  was  reading.  The  house  had  a 
good  supply  of  what  was  then  considered  classic  English 
literature, —  classic  American  literature  being  yet  in  its 
early  beginnings, — but  it  was  not  these  solid  volumes 
that  attracted  the  boy  so  much  as  the  newspapers  and 


BOYHOOD.  19 

magazines,  witli  occasionally  a  new  book,  that  came  into 
his  father's  office.  "  Over  these  he  would  pore  so  deeply," 
says  an  old  associate,  "  that  sometimes  you  might  speak  to 
him  half  a  dozen  times  and  he  would  not  know  it."  In 
his  last  sickness,  Mr.  Bowles  said  to  a  friend,  in  review- 
ing his  busy  life,  "I  was  never  much  of  a  boy, — I  had 
very  little  boyhood."  The  sobriety  of  the  community 
and  the  household,  with  a  want  of  full  vitality  and  ani- 
mal spirits,  made  his  early  years  somewhat  colorless. 
The  first  strong  wakening  of  life  came  with  the  call  to 
manly  work. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  Beginning  op  the  Daily  "Republican." 

IT  is  almost  a  matter  of  course  that  a  father  who  is  fond 
of  his  own  business  and  succeeds  in  it  should  wish 
his  eldest  boy  to  follow  in  his  footsteps.  So  it  was  with 
Sam  Bowles's  father,  and  the  boy  himself  was  nothing 
loath.  To  be  the  maker  of  a  newspaper  was  an  attractive 
prospect,  and  the  opportunity  was  right  before  him.  The 
father  had  no  foresight  of  the  high  power  which  the  son 
was  to  develop,  and  saw  no  occasion  for  giving  him  a 
much  broader  and  more  liberal  education  than  had  fallen 
to  his  own  share.  When  the  son  left  school,  at  the 
age  of  seventeen,  he  began  the  miscellaneous  duties  of 
"  office-boy,"  with  sometimes  a  turn  of  work  in  the  print- 
ing-room ;  passing  on  gradually  to  write  occasional  items 
of  local  news,  and  to  practice  the  various  duties  of  a 
country  editor,  except  the  writing  of  "  leaders."  Such 
few  of  these  as  the  paper  contained  were  done  by  an 
older  hand,  generally  one  outside  of  the  office.  The  boy 
had  no  distinct  ideal  of  what  he  was  to  do  or  be.  He  did 
faithfully  and  laboriously  his  work  as  it  lay  before  him, 
conscientious  and  thorough  even  in  drudgery,  as  his 
father  had  been. 

But  in  young  Bowles  there  soon  showed  itself  a  push- 
ing, ambitious  spirit,  which  aimed  at  higher  things  than 
had  contented  his  father.    When  he  was  eighteen  years 


old,  a  bold  enterprise  shaped  itself  in  his  mind.  He 
proposed  to  his  father  to  make  the  Republican  a  daily 
paper.  He  was  at  first  by  no  means  favorable  to  the 
idea.  There  was  not  a  daily  paper  in  the  state  outside 
of  Boston.  There  was  nothing  in  the  size  or  charac- 
ter of  Springfield  that  seemed  to  him  to  promise  favor- 
ably for  such  a  venture.  He  had  worked  through  early 
failures  and  hardships  to  a  moderate  success.  The 
Weekly  Eepuhlican  was  now  a  well-established  concern ; 
its  editor  was  n  earing  his  fiftieth  year ;  why  increase  his 
toils  and  risk  what  had  been  gained '? 

But  the  son  was  persistent  and  persuasive.  His  will 
was  strong  and  his  tongue  skillful  to  plead.  Railroads 
were  coming  in  ;  already  there  were  daily  trains  to  Bos- 
ton and  Albany,  and  soon  would  be  to  Hartford  and 
New  York ;  the  town  must  grow  under  their  influence, 
and  outlying  towns  be  brought  near ;  Hartford  had  its 
daily  paper ;  the  Weekly  Republican  was  a  good  basis  to 
start  from.  All  this  and  much  more  the  boy  urged  on 
his  father,  who  at  last  gave  consent  as  far  as  this  :  "  If 
you,  Sam,  will  take  the  main  responsibility  of  working 
and  pushing  it,  the  daily  shall  be  started."  That  was 
enough.  The  plans  were  made  ;  father  and  son  went  to 
Hartford  to  inspect  the  methods  of  making  a  daily  pa- 
per ;  and  on  the  twenty-seventh  of  March,  1844,  appeared 
the  first  number  of  the  Daily  Republican.  It  was  an  even- 
ing paper,  a  small  four-page  sheet,  with  just  two  columns 
of  original  matter,  including  prospectus,  editorial,  and 
local  news.  So  the  ship  was  launched  and  the  young 
man's  life-work  begun. 

Work  it  was  from  the  start,  and  hard  work.  The 
father  toiled  steadily,  in  his  slow,  assiduous  way :  on  the 
son  it  feU  to  break  the  new  paths,  invent  methods,  and 
carry  from  the  start  the  larger  part  of  the  brain-work 
and  pen-work  requisite  to  meet  the  inexorable  daily  de- 


22        THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

mand.  The  alert  mother  used  to  set  rocking-chairs  at 
the  table  at  meal-times :  '•  Mr.  Bowles  and  Sam  work 
hard  and  have  so  little  time  to  rest."  Almost  at  the  out- 
set there  came  to  the  young  man  an  ominous  breakdown. 
A  weakness  of  the  bowels  became  severe  and  chronic, 
and  it  was  feared  that  his  lungs  were  in  danger.  In  the 
winter  of  1844-5,  he  was  obliged  to  seek  a  warmer  climate, 
and  spent  several  months  in  the  Southern  states,  for  the 
most  part  in  Louisiana.  When  he  left  home  his  father 
gave  him  a  Bible,  with  this  inscription  on  the  fly-leaf: 

"  Deae  Samtel  :  Read  this  book  often  and  prayerfully. 
Let  it  be  your  chief  counselor  and  fi-iend.  Let  it  strengthen 
your  heart  to  resist  temptation.  May  it  be  yoiu"  support  in 
affliction,  and  may  God  protect  and  bless  you  in  your  absence, 
and  restore  you  in  health  to  Youi*  Parents." 

The  young  man  was  lonely  and  homesick,  but  he  came 
back  with  health  restored,  and  having  made  his  first 
marked  success  as  a  writer.  From  the  South  he  sent 
home  a  series  of  fifteen  letters  to  the  pajDcr,  which  gave 
to  the  local  public  its  first  impression  that  "  Young  Sam 
Bowles  was  a  smart  fellow."  It  was  not  a  showy^,  boyish 
smartness  that  the  letters  showed,  but  the  eye  of  a  good 
observer  and  the  pen  of  a  good  reporter.  The  writer 
notes  the  climate,  the  productions,  the  business  resources 
of  the  places  he  visits ;  describes  the  cultivation  of  cot- 
ton and  sugar  ;  tells  something  of  manners  and  morals  ; 
gives  an  occasional  bit  of  picturesque  description ; 
touches  observantly  on  local  politics ;  and  infers  that 
slavery  is  worse  for  the  masters  than  for  the  slaves. 
The  letters  are  written  in  a  clear  and  simple  style,  in- 
elegant sometimes,  but  never  pretentious  or  obscure. 
They  show  a  young  man  with  quick  eye  and  ear  and 
shrewd  brain,  observant  of  practical  affairs,  skillful  to 
gather  facts  and  to  tell  a  plain  story. 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  DAILY  "eEPUBLICAN."     23 

The  traveler  came  home, — with  health  so  strengthened 
that  it  was  seven  years  before  he  again  succumbed, — and 
resumed  the  stroke  oar  in  the  RepubUcan.  The  paper 
kept  steadily  on,  gaining  a  little  in  quality  and  standing. 
It  began  without  a  subscriber,  and  at  the  end  of  two 
years  claimed  only  three  hundred.  In  December,  1845, 
it  became  a  morning  paper,  and  with  that  change  came 
the  hours  of  late*  night- work  for  its  editors.  One  chief 
item  in  the  younger  man's  work  was  for  a  good  while  to 
gather  and  write  the  items  of  local  news.  After  a  while 
he  developed  a  talent  for  condensing  into  brief  and  read- 
able form  the  long  and  heavy  articles  in  which  the  great 
political  papers  of  the  day  discharged  their  thunder.  On 
these  he  began  to  practice  that  great  art  of  ''  boiling 
down  "  which  his  paper  afterward  carried  to  such  perfec- 
tion. For  original  writing,  beyond  news,  he  did  not 
know  that  he  had  capacity,  and  the  reporting  and  gen- 
eral work  of  the  paper  gave  him  ample  occupation. 

In  the  last  year  of  his  life,  Mr.  Bowles  was  asked 
by  a  friend :  "  Do  you  trace  your  success  to  any  special 
impulse  at  the  beginning?"  He  answered,  "  Yes.  Soon 
after  I  took  hold  of  the  paper  there  was  a  quarrel  about 
the  management  of  the  Armory.  The  men  who  differed 
from  my  father  made  it  a  personal  matter  against  him, 
and  tried  to  break  down  his  business  by  starting  an 
opposition  paper.  That  roused  my  ire,  and  I  determined 
that  we  would  not  be  beaten.  I  threw  myself  into  the 
paper  with  aU  my  might.  After  a  year  my  opponents 
came  to  me,  and  wanted  a  truce,  but  I  said,  '  No ;  you 
began  the  fight  and  now  you  shall  have  it.'  And  they 
did,  till  they  were  driven  from  the  field.  That  fight  got 
my  steam  up,  and  after  that  I  kept  on." 

This  hostility  to  the  RepuMlcan  took  form  in  the  estab- 
lishment of  the  Bailif  Evening  Gazette^  changed  from  a 
weekly  to  a  daily  paper  in  April,  1846,  when  the  younger 


24       THE   LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

Bowles  was  in  his  twenty-first  year.  The  trouble  arose 
upon  the  transfer  of  the  United  States  Armory,  which 
was  the  principal  manufactory  in  the  town,  from  civil  to 
military  control.  The  new  superintendent,  Major  Ripley, 
an  able  and  energetic  officer,  introduced  a  different  re- 
gime from  the  easy-going  ways  that  had  been  in  fashion. 
Regular  and  sharply  enforced  hours  of  work,  marks  and 
fines  for  tardiness  or  neglect,  a  military  exactness  and 
formality, —  these  and  the  like  were  new  features  to  a  set 
of  independent  Yankee  workmen,  accustomed  to  doing 
their  work  in  their  own  way.  There  were  loud  com- 
plaints against  the  superintendent,  the  citizens  took  sides 
in  the  matter,  and  the  dispute  came  to  have  a  good  deal 
of  acrimony.  It  culminated  in  a  military  court  of  in- 
quiry, which  acquitted  Major  Ripley.  The  BepuUican 
had  criticised  him,  but  in  a  very  temperate  manner,  and 
had  by  no  means  made  the  subject  a  prominent  one. 
But  feeling  ran  high ;  and  just  before  the  conclusion  of 
the  court,  the  Gazette  was  changed  from  a  weekly  to  a 
daily,  by  way  of  retaliation  on  the  Bepuhlican.  The  lat- 
ter paper  engaged  in  no  wordy  warfare  with  its  rival. 
Its  columns  showed  at  this  time  not  a  trace  of  that  ready 
and  brilliant  combativeness  which  was  so  marked  a  dis- 
tinction of  the  later  Bepuhlican.  But  one  who  studies 
the  files  sees  unmistakably  a  marked  and  steady  growth 
in  the  merit  of  the  paper  from  this  time  on.  For  two 
years  it  had  done  little  more  than  sustain  the  quality 
with  which  it  began.  But  through  1846  it  grows  broader 
and  better,  and  after  that  it  does  not  cease  to  grow.  It 
shows  gradually  an  increase  of  reading  matter,  a  better 
arrangement,  and  an  abler  style  of  discussion.  During 
this  year  first  appears  that  prompt,  full,  and  admirable 
reporting  of  the  state  election  returns  —  upon  a  system 
like  that  originated  by  the  Boston  Atlas  some  years 
before — which  became  one  of  the  paper's  brilliant  feat- 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  DAILY  "REPUBLICAN."     25 

ures.  The  size  of  the  sheet  was  repeatedly  enlarged,  and 
the  subscription  list  steadily  increased.  Through  these 
years  Sam  Bowles  was  putting  into  the  paper  his  hardest 
work,  his  best  life-blood.  The  situation  appealed  to  his 
pride,  his  combativeness,  his  filial  feeling,  and  that  de- 
light in  journalism  for  its  own  sake  which  was  becoming 
in  him  a  master  passion.  The  immediate  struggle  ended 
in  victory,  in  July,  1848.  The  Gazette  was  absorbed  in 
the  Eepuhlican,  and  its  editor,  Mr.  William  Stowe,  a  man 
of  character  and  ability,  was  added  to  the  Bepublican's 
working  force. 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  Old  and  the  New  Journalism. 

THE  first  editorial,  beyond  a  paragraph,  whicli  ap- 
peared in  the  Daily  Republican,  April  24,  1844,  was 
a  vigorous  protest  against  "The  Annexation  of  Texas," 
for  which  a  treaty  had  just  been  signed  by  President 
Tyler.  With  that  annexation  may  be  said  to  have  be- 
gun the  new  era  in  American  politics,  in  which  the  issue 
was  directly  tried  between  slavery  and  freedom,  and  at 
last  between  secession  and  union.  In  the  second  month 
of  the  paper's  life,  on  May  27,  1844,  it  told  of  the  first 
telegraphic  dispatch  between  Washington  and  Baltimore. 
Thus  it  was  at  the  very  point  of  transition  between  the 
old  and  the  new  politics,  and  between  the  old  and  the 
new  journalism,  that  Samuel  Bowles  began  his  career. 

In  the  great  cities  a  new  race  of  newspapers  had  begun 
to  supplant  the  older  dynasty.  The  papers  of  the  earlier 
time  had  been  in  every  sense  heavy ;  big  in  size,  high  in 
price,  dull,  long-winded,  intensely  partisan,  and  mainly 
used  as  the  instruments  of  the  party  chiefs.  Of  these  jour- 
nalists—  represented  by  such  names  as  the  elder  Blair, 
Gales  and  Seaton,  Major  Noah,  Richard  Haughton,  and 
Colonel  Greene  —  Mr.  Horace  White  says  :  ''  These  men 
and  their  generation  were  given  over  to  the  'leading 
article*  as  the  sole  end  and  aim  of  journalism.  They 
were  a  strong-limbed  and  hard-headed  race,  but  they  had 

26 


THE  OLD  AND  THE  NEW  JOURNALISM.      27 

never  learned  that  'variety  is  the  spice  of  life,'  and 
'  brevity  the  soul  of  wit.'  The  railway  had  not  reached 
out  its  arms,  the  telegraph  had  not  spread  its  wings  for 
them.  They  were  ruled  by  their  environment,  and  the 
journalism  they  produced  consisted  of  a  diurnal  succes- 
sion of  essays  more  or  less  learned,  and  more  or  less  bel- 
licose, but  as  regular  as  the  succession  of  day  and  night, 
or  of  seed-time  and  harvest." 

But  within  a  dozen  years  there  had  sprung  up  in  New 
York  the  first  of  a  new  class  of  newspapers,  such  as  the 
Sun,  begun  in  1833,  and  the  Herald,  in  1835.  They  were 
sold  for  one  or  two  cents  (the  older  papers  were  not  sold 
by  single  copies,  being  sent  only  to  regular  subscribers); 
they  aimed  at  news  more  than  discussion ;  their  style 
was  lively  and  dashing ;  they  were  swift  to  seize  and 
invent  new  methods  in  every  direction ;  they  brought 
steam  into  their  press-rooms  and  organized  special  ser- 
vice by  land  and  by  water  for  getting  the  earliest  infor- 
mation. They  struck  into  many  veins  of  social  interest, 
—  trade,  religion,  and  personal  gossip, —  which  the  older 
papers  had  ignored.  They  discussed  politics  without 
asking  orders  from  the  chieftains  at  Washington  and 
Albany.  It  was  in  papers  of  this  class  that  American 
journalism  came  of  age.  Hitherto  the  newspaper  had 
been  a  minor  and  a  servant.  It  had  been  an  instrument 
to  promote  some  other  interest,  generally  that  of  a  po- 
litical party  or  a  personal  clique;  controlled  by  the 
leaders  of  the  clique  or  the  party,  and  sustained  by  their 
patronage.  In  the  new  journalism  the  newspaper  became 
its  own  master.  It  was  an  independent  enterprise,  as 
much  so  as  a  cotton  mill  or  a  cheese  factory.  So  far  as 
financial  success  was  the  object, —  and  such  success  was 
generally  a  main  object,  and  always  the  necessary  con- 
dition of  any  further  achievement, —  the  resource  was 
no  longer  subsidies  from  a  political  party,  but  the  pay- 


28        THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BO^^XES. 

ments  of  its  buyers  and  advertisers.  The  buyers  were 
to  be  won  by  giving  people  sucb  a  paper  as  they  wanted. 
It  was,  in  a  sense,  the  discovery  of  James  Gordon  Ben- 
nett,—  his  great  contribution  to  the  journalistic  art, — 
that  what  people  most  wanted  in  a  newspaper,  and 
were  most  willing  to  pay  for,  was  news.  Grive  news,  and 
you  gain  subscribers ;  gain  subscribers,  and  you  will  have 
advertisers ;  that  is  the  formula  of  newspaper  success. 

In  the  new  journalism  this  solid  commercial  fact  of  a 
successful  business  enterprise  was  the  basis  which  the 
journalist  might,  if  he  pleased,  use  as  a  platform  from 
which  to  say  to  the  world  his  word  of  advice  or  exhorta- 
tion, of  preaching  or  scoffing.  Thus  there  was  born  a 
new  social  power.  The  journalist  might  use  his  position 
for  good  or  for  evil,  but  henceforth  his  class  must  be 
reckoned  with  as  a  force  not  less  distinct  than  the  clergy 
or  the  law-makers. 

The  New  York  Herald  was  the  first  conspicuous  ex- 
ample in  America  of  the  new  journalism.  Its  sole  object 
was  money-making ;  its  creed  was  expressed  by  the  edi- 
tor when  he  wrote,  "  We  have  never  been  in  a  minority, 
and  we  never  shall  be " ;  its  political  sympathies  were 
generally  Democratic ;  its  temper  was  one  of  rollicking 
impudence ;  and  it  neither  feared  God  nor  regarded  man. 
Its  enterprise  in  news-gathering  won  popular  favor,  and 
drove  its  dull  and  respectable  rivals  either  to  imitation 
or  to  death.  Its  mocking  temper  and  its  open  worship 
of  material  success  shocked  the  moral  sentiment  of  the 
community,  and  its  reckless  personalities  showed  at  full 
height  the  virulence  of  a  period  of  bitter  partisanship 
and  low  culture.  By  its  merits  as  a  newspaper  it  won 
the  reward  it  sought — wealth  and  notoriety. 

In  1841,  Horace  Greeley  established  the  New  York 
Tribune.  Mr.  Greeley's  characteristic  and  best  ambition 
was  to  be  a  teacher  of  men.    He  was  a  sincere  enthusiast 


THE  OLD  AND  THE  NEW  JOURNALISM.      29 

in  social  and  political  ideas,  a  master  of  pithy  and  elo- 
quent speech  to  the  common  people,  and  he  found  in  the 
newspaper  his  best  instrumcDt.  The  influence  of  the 
time,  and  the  associates  he  found,  gave  prominence  to 
the  news  element  of  the  Tribune,  but  its  especial  service 
was  as  a  social  educator.  He  was  an  ardent  politician, 
and  his  paper  heartily  supported  the  Whig  and  after- 
ward the  Republican  party,  though  with  a  considerable 
degree  of  independence.  But  politics  was  not  its  exclu- 
sive field.  Through  its  earlier  years  it  gave  more  of 
education  and  leadership  than  any  other  American  jour- 
nal in  literature,  education,  reform,  and  all  the  higher 
forms  of  social  activity. 

The  journalistic  features  of  the  period  just  following 
the  establishment  of  the  Daily  Republican  were  thus 
summed  up  by  Mr.  Bowles,  thirty  years  later : 

"American  journalism  was  undergoing  the  greatest  trans- 
formation and  experiencing  the  deepest  inspiration  of  its  whole 
history.  The  telegraph  and  the  Mexican  war  came  La  together  j 
and  the  years  '46-'51  were  the  years  of  most  marked  growth 
known  to  America.  It  was  something  more  than  progTess,  it 
was  revolution.  Then  the  old  Sun  was  in  its  best  estate  ;  then 
Mr.  Bennett  was  in  the  prime  of  his  vigorous  intellect,  and 
his  enterprise  and  independence  were  at  the  height  of  their 
audacity.  He  had  as  first  lieutenant,  Mr..  Frederic  Hudson, 
the  best  organizer  of  a  mere  newspaper  America  has  ever  seen. 
Then  Mr.  Greeley  and  Mr.  Dana  were  harmoniously  and  vigor- 
ously giving  the  Tribune  that  scope  of  treatment  and  that 
inteUectual  depth  and  breadth  which  have  never  departed 
wholly  from  it,  and  which  are  perhaps  the  greatest  gifts  that 
any  single  journal  has  made  to  the  journalism  of  the  country. 
Then  Mr.  Raymond  commenced  the  Times  and  won  for  it  at 
once  a  prominent  place  among  its  rivals.  And  then  began  that 
horde  of  provincial  daily  journals,  springing  up  like  mush- 
rooms all  over  the  land.  Hardly  a  town  of  10,000  inhabitants 
but  that  essayed  its  diurnal  issue  in  those  fertile  years." 


30        THE   LIFE    AND   TIMES    OF    SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

It  was  in  this  field  of  provincial  journalism  that  Mr. 
Bowles's  work  was  done.  Of  the  old-fashioned  country 
newspaper  he  once  wrote : 

"  News  had  grown  old  when  it  was  published.  The  paper 
did  the  work  of  the  chronicler  or  annalist  merely,  and  was  the 
historian  of  the  past  rather  tlian  a  spectator  and  actor  in  the  pres- 
ent. It  was  not  upon  the  printed  column  that  the  events  of  the 
day  struck  the  heart  of  the  living  age,  and  drew  from  it  its  sparks 
of  fire.  In  those  times  that  place  of  contact  was  found  in  the 
personal  intercourse  of  men.  News  ran  then  along  the  street, 
from  mouth  to  mouth ;  the  gossiping  neighbor  carried  it ;  the 
post-rider  brought  it  into  the  groups  gathered  at  the  village 
store.  By  and  by  came  the  heavy  gazette,  not  to  make  its 
impression  but  to  record  the  fact.  .  .  .  The  joumahsm  was 
yet  to  be  created  that  should  stand  firmly  in  the  possession  of 
powers  of  its  own  ;  that  should  be  concerned  with  the  passing 
and  not  with  the  past ;  that  should  perfectly  reflect  its  age,  and 
yet  should  be  itself  no  mere  reflection  ;  that  should  control 
what  it  seemed  only  to  transcribe  and  narrate  ;  that  should 
teach  without  assuming  the  manners  of  an  instructor,  and 
should  command  the  coming  times  with  a  voice  that  had  still 
no  sound  but  its  echo  of  the  present." 

Among  the  country  newspapers  of  its  time,  the  Weekly 
Eepuhlican,  before  1844,  stood  well.  It  had  outlived  and 
absorbed  several  rivals  during  its  twenty  years'  exist- 
ence, and  thus  had  satisfied  the  test  of  the  survival  of 
the  fittest.  But  one  who  now  turns  over  its  old  files  will 
find  scanty  material  even  for  the  chronicler  or  annalist. 
A  file  of  the  Weekly  Repuhlican  for  any  of  the  years  of 
its  later  history  affords  a  most  graphic  and  vivid  week- 
to-week  history  of  the  period.  These  volumes  will  be  a 
rich  treasury  to  the  future  historian.  But,  between  the 
years  1826  and  1844,  the  pages  of  the  Bepiiblican  throw 
little  light  upon  the  social  life  of  the  times.  It  has  two 
chief  staples — political  discussions,  and  scraps  of  miscel- 
laneous unassorted  news.    The  politics  are  more  vigorous 


THE  OLD  AND  THE  NEW  JOUKNALISM.      31 

than  lucid.  Personal  and  party  names  do  service  largely 
in  place  of  rational  discussion.  Nothing  is  more  char- 
acteristic of  the  younger  Bowles's  methods  in  his  ma- 
turity than  his  constant  reference  to  general  principles 
in  his  writing, — the  special  question  or  incident  being 
illumined  by  its  relation  to  some  broad  idea.  In  his 
work  we  have  continually,  "philosophy  teaching  by 
example."  But  the  father's  paper  followed  largely  the 
easier  method  which  assumes  that  the  editor  and  his 
readers  are  of  the  same  mind,  and  simply  reiterates  under 
a  variety  of  forms  that  they  are  right  and  their  oppo- 
nents wrong.  Political  discussion  forms  the  central  inter- 
est, and  occupies  half  the  space,  of  the  Weekly  Repuhlican 
before  1844.  For  the  rest  it  is  filled  generally  with  some 
selected  "  tale  " ;  with  an  odd  collection  of  miscellaneous 
news  items,  in  which  "  shocking  accidents,"  "  mysterious 
occurrences "  and  "  sad  calamities "  predominate ;  and 
with  scraps  of  literary  and  religious  matter.  There  is 
an  occasional  piece  of  local  news,  meagerly  told,  some- 
times with  mild  attempt  at  humor.  But  there  is  nothing 
like  a  systematic  presentation  of  the  week's  occurrences 
even  in  the  town  and  neighborhood,  still  less  in  more 
distant  fields.  In  reading  the  meager  chronicle  one  is 
moved  to  ask,  "  Did  nothing  happen  in  those  days  ?  Or 
did  no  one  know  how  to  tell  what  happened ! " 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  First  Years  of  Work  :  Ashmun  and  Calhoun. 

SUCH  was  the  general  condition  of  American  jour- 
nalism when  Mr.  Bowles  began  his  work,  and  such 
was  the  paper  which  was  his  school  and  his  basis  to 
build  upon.  The  first  development  which  he  showed 
was  in  solid  rather  than  brilliant  qualities.  In  the 
words  of  one  who  knew  him  long  and  weU,  ''  The  fire, 
spirit,  life,  which  in  his  prime  he  was  so  full  of,  did  not 
appear  in  his  early  years.  There  was  not  much  to  de- 
velop him  at  first.  He  went  away  from  home  little,  and 
he  had  not  an  inspiring  circle  of  acquaintances.  He  was 
plodding,  industrious,  saving, — that  was  his  reputation. 
But  he  whom  in  later  years  we  knew  as  Sam,  Bowles  was 
not  there, — not  even  the  suggestion  of  him." 

In  these  first  years,  he  was  under  the  pressing  neces- 
sity of  unresting  work.  The  best  editorial  writing  at 
this  time  was  done  by  one  or  two  men  outside  of  the 
ofl&ce.  Except  this,  almost  all  the  business  and  editorial 
labor  came  upon  father  and  son,  and  most  heavily  upon 
the  son.  He  worked  late  at  night ;  vacations  and  holi- 
days were  unknown  ;  of  recreation  and  general  society 
he  had  almost  nothing. 

The  fij'st  special  power  he  showed  was  in  the  faculty  of 
seeing  a  thing  clearly  and  telling  it  as  he  saw  it.  He 
was  quick  to  find  out  what  was  going  on.    His  big  eyes 

32 


THE  FIRST  YEAES  OF  WORK.  33 

—  of  SO  dark  a  brown  that  they  often  seemed  black  —  saw 
everything  that  men  were  doing  about  him.  In  his  news 
items  the  community  began  to  find  a  little  daily  history 
of  itself.  Springfield  was  probably  in  reality  much  the 
same  town  in  1848  as  in  1843 ;  but  as  reflected  in  the 
Republican  it  has  become  a  much  more  interesting  place. 

Mr,  Bowles  was  at  the  outset  a  slow  writer  and  a  slow 
thinker.  Even  his  news  reports  were  written  patiently 
and  laboriously.  His  epigrammatic  brilliance,  his  genius 
for  terse  and  telling  phrase,  belonged  altogether  to  his 
later  development.     So  did  his  power  of  managing  men, 

—  a  power  compounded  of  magnetism  and  tact.  His 
first  foreman  had  been  his  room-mate  as  a  boy,  and, 
being  a  stiff-grained  Yankee,  was  not  very  amenable  to 
the  management  of  his  old  companion,  and  gave  him 
many  a  troublous  hour.  The  editor  managed  to  hold 
his  own,  but  at  home  he  sometimes  cried  with  vexation 
over  the  difficulties  of  the  composing-room. 

He  seems  to  have  had  no  marked  period  of  mental 
fermentation  and  deep  questioning.  Among  his  con- 
temporaries in  New  England,  there  was  much  unsettling 
and  relaying  of  foundations.  Emerson  and  Carlyle 
were  uttering  their  quickening  words.  Transcendent- 
alism was  at  its  height,  and  all  manner  of  reforms  and 
agitations  were  in  the  air.  The  Abolition  movement  was 
stirring  the  social  and  political  world  with  thrills  of 
wrath  and  of  sympathy.  It  was  a  yeasty  time :  intel- 
lectual America  was  in  the  stage  of  uneasy  adolescence, 
with  its  passion,  self-questioning,  aspiration,  and  revolt, 
A  few  years  later,  no  man  was  more  sensitive  to  the 
moral  atmosphere  of  the  community  than  Mr,  Bowles, 
But  in  his  youth  he  was  not  especially  stirred  by  what 
we  now  look  back  to  as  the  vital  and  prophetic  forces  of 
the  time.  With  those  forces,  as  social  influences,  he  did 
not  come  in  close  contact.  The  town  he  lived  in  was 
Vol.  I.— 3 


34        THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

provincial  as  uo  place  is  provincial  in  these  days  of 
railroad  and  telegraph.  The  movements  of  thought, 
which,  as  we  look  back  on  them,  appear  like  tidal  waves 
agitating  the  whole  community,  were  in  reality  narrow 
currents,  which  left  the  greater  part  of  society  a  long 
time  unmoved.  Boston  and  its  neighborhood  awoke 
to  the  new  life  long  before  the  rest  of  the  country.  The 
social  atmosphere  of  the  Connecticut  Valley  was  conserv- 
ative and  in  a  degree  materialistic.  It  was  little  respon- 
sive to  the  passionate  cry  of  the  Abolitionists.  That  dry- 
ness of  the  old  New  England  life,  that  want  of  color  and 
warmth  and  spiritual  insight,  against  which  Emerson 
and  Thoreau  and  the  Transcendentalists  revolted,  so  per- 
vaded and  incrusted  the  general  community  that  only 
the  more  sensitive  and  restless  spirits  answered  to  the 
call  for  something  better.  At  the  time  of  life  when  a 
young  man  is  most  liable  to  questioning  and  mental  un- 
rest, Mr.  Bowles  was  held  too  closely  by  work  and  re- 
sponsibility to  have  any  leisure  for  exploring  excursions 
into  the  infinite.  His  whole  early  bent  was  practical 
rather  than  speculative.  He  found  his  great  interest, 
beyond  his  personal  work,  in  that  broadest  of  practical 
subjects,  the  political  life  of  the  nation.  His  finest  work 
as  a  reporter  was  his  account  of  political  conventions; 
and  his  journeys  to  these,  with  the  contact  into  which 
they  brought  him  with  leading  men,  were  a  great  step 
in  that  intercourse  with  humanity  in  which  lay  much  of 
the  education  of  his  maturity.  He  had  grown  up  in  a 
family  and  a  community  in  which  the  solid  and  practical 
qualities  were  more  cultivated  than  the  graces  and  amen- 
ities. He  had  by  nature  an  instinct  to  claim  the  first 
place ;  and  the  early  struggle  for  success,  in  which  every 
foot  of  ground  had  to  be  fought  for,  was  not  likely  to 
lessen  that  disposition.  His  associates  found  him  some- 
times selfish  and  sometimes  crusty.     The  sweeter  and 


THE  FIKST  YEARS  OF  WOEK.  35 

mellower  traits  needed  years  and  experience  for  their 
full  ripening. 

His  habits  were  pure,  and  only  in  work  was  he  given 
to  injurious  indulgence.  With  early  manhood  began 
the  lavish,  unstinted  drain  of  nervous  power  through 
excessive  toil  and  shortened  sleep.  There  appeared  no 
lack  of  nervous  force  until  in  later  years  this  steady 
drain  had  weakened  him.  Indeed,  the  immense  activity 
which  in  effect  condensed  half  a  dozen  life-times  into 
his  fifty-two  years,  showed  that  his  original  endowment 
of  nerve  and  brain  power  was  magnificent.  It  seems 
probable  that  the  quiet  and  unstimulated  character  of 
his  boyish  years  was  no  bad  preparation  for  the  intensely 
energetic  career  that  was  to  follow.  From  the  time  when 
the  first  friction  of  manly  work  and  struggle  struck  fii-e 
within  him,  the  flame  never  ceased  to  burn.  But  through 
his  boyhood  and  adolescence  nature  had  slowly  and 
quietly  ripened  and  stored  her  forces  within  him,  amid  a 
sedate  household  and  a  tranquil  community. 

The  two  men  whose  influence  on  the  early  life  of  Sam- 
uel Bowles  and  the  Bepuhlican  was  most  marked,  were 
William  B.  Calhoun  and  George  Ashmun.  To  Mr.  Cal- 
houn more  than  to  any  other  man  the  paper  owed  its 
first  high  merit  as  a  political  teacher.  The  editorials  in 
which  the  little  provincial  sheet,  even  in  its  earlier  days, 
spoke  sometimes  with  a  voice  as  forcible  and  as  lofty  as 
the  best  of  the  great  journals,  were  for  the  most  part 
written  by  him.  Mr.  Ashmun  made  less  immediate  con- 
tribution to  the  Repuhlican,  but  his  was  the  most  brill- 
iant and  impressive  personality  at  that  time  in  western 
Massachusetts,  and  he  fascinated  and  helped  to  mold  the 
young  man  who  was  his  near  neighbor.  Mr.  Bowles 
once  said,  toward  the  end  of  his  life,  that  the  only  man 
he  ever  felt  dominate  him  was  George  Ashmun.  He 
sketched  the  portraits  of  Calhoun  and  Ashmun  at  the 


36        THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

time  of  their  deaths.  Those  portraits  deserve  to  be  given 
here,  at  least  their  most  salient  features, — not  only  as 
among  the  best  specimens  of  Mr.  Bowles's  style  in  its 
maturity,  but  because  the  two  men  acted  upon  his  char- 
acter from  different  sides  as  strong  formative  influences ; 
and  because  each  illustrated  a  conspicuous  type  among 
the  New  Englanders  of  the  last  generation ;  — the  one,  a 
modernized  Puritan,  the  other  a  personal  and  political 
disciple  of  Daniel  Webster. 

The  obituary  of  Mr.  Calhoun,  November  9,  1865,  says 
of  him  : 

"A  vigorous  constitution,  simple  habits,  and  great  care  have 
long  withstood  sharp  disease,  combiniag  consumption,  catarrh, 
and  dyspepsia ;  —  it  was  not  in  humanity  to  resist  such  union  of 
assault  longer  or  more  bravely ;  and  he  died  with  the  dignity 
and  the  courage  and  yet  the  submissiveness  with  which  he  had 
always  lived. 

*'  Mr.  Calhoun  was  beyond  any  other  man  of  past  or  present 
generation  the  public  man  of  Springfield.  No  one  was  ever 
more  truly  popular  among  us  than  he;  no  other  citizen  ever 
held  so  many  high  pubhc  trusts,  or  so  long,  as  he ;  and  no 
man,  perhaps,  ever  gave  more  satisfaction  to  his  constituents, 
or  more  faithfully  fulfilled  his  duties." 

There  follows  a  summary  of  the  events  of  his  life. 
He  was  born  in  Boston  in  1796,  educated  at  Yale,  came 
to  Springfield  a  young  lawyer;  was  sent  to  the  legisla- 
ture (House)  from  1825  to  1835,  and  for  the  last  two  years 
was  Speaker ;  was  in  Congress  for  Hampden  and  Hamp- 
shire counties  from  1835  to  1843 ;  failed  then  in  health ; 
went  to  the  State  Senate  and  was  its  president  in  1846 
and  1847 ;  then  was  Secretary  of  State  for  three  years ; 
was  a  State  Bank  Commissioner  for  three  years  from 
1853 ;  lived  on  his  farm  in  the  intervals  of  public  service ; 
was  mayor  of  Springfield  in  1859,  and  again  was  repre- 
sentative in  the  legislature  in  1861. 


THE  FIKST  TEARS  OF  WOEK.  37 

"  This  was  the  last  of  his  pubHc  service.  Since,  his  retire- 
ment has  been  inexorable  from  the  growing  power  of  his  disease, 
now  at  last  finally  victorious.  But  the  cordial  respect  and 
tender  thought  of  the  communities  he  had  so  long  and  so  faith- 
fully served  waited  on  him  in  his  invaUd  home ;  and  never  was 
there  a  party  emergency,  or  popular  want  of  leader,  that  his 
name  was  not  mentioned,  and  his  incapacity  lamented. 

"None  of  this  popular  confidence,  none  of  these  popular 
trusts,  were  due  to  what  are  understood  in  pohtical  cii'cles  as 
'popular  quaUties.'  There  was  no  self-seeking,  no  placating 
manner,  very  httle  warming,  magnetic  quaUty,  in  Mr.  Calhoun. 
We  never  knew  him  to  seek  an  office ;  he  yielded  to  the  oppor- 
tunities for  it  oftener  than  he  would  but  that  he  was  poor,  and 
ill-health  and  disrehsh  unfitted  him  for  the  successful  practice 
of  his  profession ;  but  we  never  could  detect  the  slightest  ele- 
ment of  the  demagogue  or  the  office-seeker  in  his  character  or 
his  manners.  The  atmosphere  of  his  presence  forbade  any 
such  ideas.  He  was  consistently,  radically,  democratic  in  his 
thought  and  principles  5  as  true  a  republican  as  ever  Uved ;  but 
his  appearance  and  his  manner  were  always  dignified,  self- 
respecting,  unimpassioned.  When  he  spoke,  particularly  when 
he  addressed  a  pubUc  audience,  there  was  more  of  enthusiasm, 
and  he  was  always  earnest  in  conviction  and  utterance.  In 
writing,  too,  his  style  was  far  more  spirited,  popular,  and  en- 
thusiastic than  would  have  been  imagined  by  those  not  famihar 
with  this  expression  of  his  life.  He  did  nothing  so  weU  as  this, 
indeed.  His  style  was  pure,  the  purest,  yet  popular  and  entic- 
ing. It  was  both  vigorous  and  effective,  simple  and  elevated. 
For  many  years  he  was  an  occasional  editorial  writer  for  the  Re- 
publican, and  for  several  years  quite  a  voluminous  contributor  to 
its  columns.  He  wrote  very  readily  and  with  great  perfection 
in  detail.  No  copy  was  ever  so  clean  as  his.  His  electioneer- 
ing paragraphs  were  especially  admirable, — the  fashion  is  gone 
out  with  us  now ;  but  his  appeals  to  the  old  Whigs  to  rally  at 
the  polls,  to  vote  early,  to  get  out  the  sick,  to  stand  by  the 
polls  till  night,  and  generally  to  save  their  party  and  their 
country,  in  the  pending  crisis,  had  as  much  pith  and  ring  to 
them  as  Thurlow  Weed's,  and  more  of  culture  and  rhetoric. 


38        THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

'^  The  one  superior  element  in  Mr.  Calhoun's  character  and 
life  was  its  high  moral  quahty.  It  was  this  and  the  subtle 
magnetism  of  it  that  made  him  so  strong  with  the  people,  that 
gave  him  such  influence  with  them,  and  such  power  in  pubhc 
places.  No  man  we  ever  knew  was  more  gifted  in  this  respect; 
it  seemed  an  endowment  of  nature,  indeed,  more  than  a  disci- 
pline of  life,  with  him  —  it  seemed  as  if  he  were  born  into  it, 
and  had  always  lived  in  it.  His  rehgious  character  grew  out 
of  this,  and  became  in  middle  life  and  since  a  conspicuous  and 
even  dominating  influence  with  him.  He  was  very  much  ab- 
sorbed in  rehgious  and  theological  reading ;  probably  his 
hbrary  is  the  richest  in  these  respects  in  all  this  region ;  and 
the  old  Pm'itan  habits  and  thoughts  appeared  to  grow  firm 
into  his  nature  with  his  study  and  experience. 

''  Mr.  Calhoun  began  his  pubhc  life  the  very  season  the 
Bepuhlican  was  started,  forty  years  ago,  and  he  and  it  have 
always  been  in  pohtical  sympathy.  He  was  an  habitue  of  its 
office  and  writer  for  its  columns  when  we  began  to  sweep  out, 
caiTy  papers,  and  play  '  roller  boy.'  He  has  been  its  familiar 
ever  since ;  though  not  so  frequently  a  visitor  as  before  the 
death  of  his  intimate  friend  and  contemporary,  the  original 
proprietor  and  editor,  and  his  own  broken  health.  We  imagine 
he  felt  a  little  shy  of  the  youthful  rashness  that  succeeded  to 
the  helm,  as  we  never  wholly  outgrew  the  feeling  of  awe  and 
distant  respect  that  his  tall,  erect  form,  his  sober  face,  and  his 
stiff,  iron-gray  hair,  as  well  as  the  weighty  and  measured  wis- 
dom of  his  editorials,  created  in  our  boyish  breast.  Years  and 
invalid  experience  have  unlocked  for  us  some  of  the  mysteries 
of  his  hfe ;  we  knew  him  better  lately  without  seeing  him  at 
all ; — and  we  knew,  too,  that  honorable  and  useful  as  his  life 
has  been,  it  would  have  been  more  effective  and  even  more 
successful  in  a  worldly  sense  had  he  not  ever  borne  torture  and 
weakness  in  his  body  ;  but  that  it  could  hardly  have  been  nobler 
and  more  faithful,  or  earned  a  higher  glory  in  Immortality." 

Upon  the  death  of  Mr.  Ashmun,  in  the  summer  of 
1870,  Mr.  Bowles  wrote  of  him  : 

''  No  citizen  of  western  Massachusetts,  of  all  her  generations, 
ever  made  that  impress  upon  his  feUows,  ever  more  stimulated 


THE  FIRST  YEARS  OF  WORK.  39 

the  hope  and  stiiTed  the  pride  of  his  own  neighbors  and  friends, 
than  George  Ashmun.  Other  men  have  made  larger  use  of 
their  opportunities  and  their  gifts.  The  very  wealth  of  his  own 
seemed  to  make  him  careless  of  them,  and  he  Hved  and  died, 
himself  sharing  the  vexation  of  his  admirers  at  what  might 
have  been." 

An  epitome  of  his  life  up  to  1854  is  given,  in  a  note 
of  his  own  to  the  editor :  "  Born  at  Blandford,  Mass., 
1804 ;  graduated  at  Yale ;  studied  law  and  began  prac- 
tice in  Springfield  in  1828 ;  was  sent  four  times  to  the 
Massachusetts  House  of  Representatives,  and  was  its 
Speaker  in  1841 ;  went  twice  to  the  State  Senate ;  and 
was  in  the  National  House  from  1845  to  1851.  Such," 
he  writes,  "  is  my  public  history  during  the  fifty  years 
which  are  completed  to-day !  I  have  had  too  much  of 
public  life  for  my  own  good,  and  more  than  is  good  for 
any  man  who  wisely  seeks  the  happiness  of  himself  or 
his  family,  and  not  enough  to  be  of  any  service  to  any 
one  else,  or  worth  being  put  upon  record." 

"  Early,"  writes  Mr.  Bowles,  "  he  became  both  a  per- 
sonal and  political  favorite,  and  there  never  has  been  a 
time  when  the  people  of  Springfield,  almost  without  re- 
gard to  party,  would  not  join  with  enthusiasm  in  elevat- 
ing him  to  any  public  station  within  their  power."  In 
his  profession  he  was  associated  from  1834  until  his  sub- 
stantial retirement  in  1851  with  Reuben  A.  Chapman, 
afterward  chief  justice  of  the  state.  He  was  not  a  se- 
vere general  student,  but  always  mastered  his  cases  ;  the 
day  before  the  trial  he  might  be  off  with  his  dog  and 
gun,  but  the  struggle  found  him  prepared. 

''  He  comprehended  as  by  instinct  not  only  the  strong  points 
of  his  own  case,  but  the  weak  points  of  his  adversary's,  and  he 
was  alert  and  vigorous  in  following  up  every  advantage.  Sub- 
tle or  simple,  attentive  or  negligent,  indifferent  or  absorbed ; 
vehement  and  overpowering  in  assertion  and  bold  invective,  or 


40        THE  LIFE  AND    TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

calm  in  statement  and  modest  in  appeal,  he  really  had  no 
match  in  the  profession  in  all  this  part  of  the  state,  and  if  he 
had  chosen  to  give  himself  up  to  the  law  with  any  consistent 
and  persistent  following,  his  triumphs  in  it  would  have  swept 
through  the  state,  and  gone  into  the  higher  courts  of  the 
large  cities.     .     .     . 

"  But  perhaps  his  great  power  in  trying  a  case,  as  indeed  his 
great  power  in  politics  or  in  social  life,  was  his  personal  influ- 
ence over  men.  He  was  a  student  of  human  nature,  and  some- 
what prided  himself  upon  his  attainments  in  tliis  respect.  He 
had  all  the  elements  of  great  personal  attraction,  and  added  to 
this  a  subtle  and  cogent  way  of  putting  a  case  from  the  stand- 
point of  the  man  whom  he  was  seeking  to  influence.  By  being 
master  of  himself  and  superior  to  the  reasons  which  influenced 
his  own  mind,  it  was  that  he  became  capable  of  giving  the  rea- 
sons which  should  influence  other  minds.  His  career  in  pubhc 
life  is  full  of  striking  illustrations  of  this  great  power  of  his. 
Probably  the  most  notable  was  the  result  of  his  interview  with 
Stephen  A.  Douglas,  directly  after  the  rebels  fired  on  Fort 
Sumter,  and  the  rebellion  was  fuUy  launched  upon  the  land. 
Such  were  his  appeals,  such  the  force  of  the  arguments  he  ad- 
dressed to  Douglas,  that  the  great  lUinoisian  rose  up  superior 
to  partisanship,  superior  to  disappointment,  and  took  his  stand 
with  the  country,  '  Now,'  said  Mr.  Ashmun,  although  it  was 
very  late  in  the  night,  *  let  us  go  up  to  the  White  House  and 
talk  with  Mr.  Lincoln.  I  want  you  to  say  to  him  what  you 
have  said  to  me,  and  then  I  want  the  result  of  this  night's  de- 
liberations to  be  telegraphed  to  the  country.'  That  interview 
at  the  White  House  between  these  three  men  —  Lincoln,  Doug- 
las, and  Ashmun — should  be  historical.  Then  and  there  Mr. 
Douglas  took  down  the  map  and  planned  the  campaign.  Then 
and  there  he  gave  in,  most  eloquently  and  vehemently,  his  ad- 
hesion to  the  Administration  and  the  country.  Mr.  Ashmun 
himself  briefly  epitomized  the  story,  and  it  went  by  telegraph 
that  night  aU  over  the  country,  to  electrify  and  encourage 
every  patriot  on  the  morrow. 

"  In  pubhc  life,  not  only  by  such  address  as  this,  but  by 
abihty  in  debate,  by  wisdom  in  council,  by  adroitness  in  deal- 


THE   FIKST   YEAES   OF  WORK.  41 

ing  with  the  circumstances  of  the  moment,  and  the  prejudices 
and  passions  of  friends  and  foes,  he  wielded  great  influence, 
and  had  in  fact  no  peer  on  the  floor  while  in  Congress,  and  was 
always  put  forward  by  his  fi'iends  to  manage  any  difficult  case, 
to  discomfit  any  dangerous  opponent.  He  was  always  true  to 
the  advanced  ideas  of  the  Whigs  of  Massachusetts "  upon  the 
great  questions  of  the  time.  *'  Though  his  great  friend,  Mr. 
Webster,  abandoned  the  Wilmot  Proviso  principle,  Mr.  Ashmun 
could  not  and  did  not.  .  .  .  His  intimacy  with  and  admira- 
tion for  Mr.  Webster,  more  than  any  other  circumstance,  per- 
haps, shaped  his  public  career  and  intennipted  his  growth  in 
pubhc  life.  It  always  seemed  to  us  a  remarkable  circumstance, 
as  a  striking  testimony  of  the  consistency  and  firmness  of  Mr. 
Ashmun's  principles,  that  Mr.  Webster  did  not  confide  to  him  in 
advance,  as  he  did  to  many  others,  the  character  of  his  famous 
seventh  of  March  compromise  speech.  The  letters  which  Mr. 
Ashmun  then  wrote  to  his  correspondents  at  home  would  now 
be  regarded  as  valuable  pohtical  revelations.  *  Don't  beheve,' 
said  he,  day  after  day,  *  what  you  hear  about  Mr.  Webster's 
forthcoming  speech.  He  will  make  no  such  concessions  as  are 
attributed  to  him.  To  use  his  own  words,  "  the  past  at  least  is 
secure,"  and  he  will  take  no  steps  backward.' "  When  the  speech 
came,  Mr.  Ashmun  was  as  much  surprised  as  any  one  ;  it  did 
not  shake  his  personal  loyalty  to  Webster,  but  he  would  not  go 
with  bim  in  giving  up  the  Wilmot  Proviso.  "  But  his  personal 
feelings  were  so  strongly  in  sympathy  with  the  man  that,  with- 
out giving  up  his  piinciples,  he  espoused  Mr.  Webster's  side  in 
the  ensuing  pohtical  and  pei^onal  quarrels,  and  went  out  of 
pohtical  life  in  consequence.  Never  was  there  greater  evidence, 
it  seems  to  us,  of  the  real  personal  power  of  Mr.  Webster,  than 
the  fact  that  this  strong  man,  before  whom  and  to  whom  aU 
others  yielded,  surrendered  himself  almost  completely  to  him, 
shared  his  controversies,  and  accepted  voluntarily  his  fate.  Nor 
do  we  ever  find  the  evidence  that  Mr.  Webster  truly  appre- 
ciated this  great  tribute  to  his  power,  this  great  gift  of  self- 
sacrificing  friendship.  It  seems  to  be  the  weakness  of  men  of 
the  Websterian  position  and  supremacy  to  regard  men  nearly 
aU  alike,  and  make  no  true  distinction  between  the  characters 


42        THE   LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

of  those  who  give  them  their  friendship."  Mr.  Webster  showed 
always  a  warm  and  high  regard  for  Mr.  Ashmun,  but  appar- 
ently "he  did  not  measure  the  true  degree  of  heroic  friend- 
ship and  generous  self-saciiflce  which  Mr.  Ashmun  laid  at  his 
feet.  Other  men  owed  what  they  were  to  their  friendship  for 
Mr.  Webster  ;  Mr.  Ashmun,  in  a  sense,  lost  all  he  was  and  all 
he  had  a  right  to  hope  of  being,  by  that  friendship.  But  his 
devotion  to  his  great  friend  truly  marked  the  innate  heroism  of 
his  nature.  Perhaps  it  was  the  only  occasion  of  his  life  that 
brought  it  out  in  full  measure,  but  the  quahty  was  there,  and 
no  one  ever  came  near  and  saw  into  him  but  detected  this  great 
instinct  of  heroism.     ... 

"  Not  until  long  after  Mr,  Webster's  death  did  Mr.  Ashmun 
recover  tone  and  toleration  for  public  life.  Living  at  Washing- 
ton most  of  the  time,  he  was  in  contact  with  leading  men  of 
all  parties,  but  whUe  he  never  gave  up  his  old  anti-slavery 
Whig  principles,  and  early  sympathized  with  the  idea  and 
movement  of  the  Republican  party,  his  views  of  public  life 
were  all  tinged  by  the  Websterian  experience."  He  was  in- 
duced to  go  to  the  Chicago  convention  that  nominated  Lincoln  in 
1860,  and  served  ably  as  its  presiding  officer.  Upon  this  followed 
a  pleasant  intimacy  with  President  Lincoln,  and  an  influential 
private  position  at  Washington ;  but  he  was  not  acceptable 
to  the  Massachusetts  congressmen,  and  no  office  was  offered  to 
him  that  he  would  accept.  '^  We  remember  his  bringing  to  us 
the  first  intimation  of  Mr.  Lincoln's  desu'e  for  re-election,  long 
before  it  had  been  manifest  to  the  pubhc.  Walking  together 
under  the  trees  of  the  pubhc  grounds,  the  President  gave  his 
confidence  to  our  townsman.  He  said,  in  his  quiet,  plain  way, 
that,  now  he  had  got  used  to  the  machine,  he  thought  he  should 
like  to  run  it  four  years  more. 

*'  But  it  was  in  social  life,  perhaps,  that  both  the  power  and 
the  charm  of  Mr.  Ashmun's  character  came  out  most  fully. 
Sometimes  he  was  imperious,  as  he  was  always  imperial ;  but  it 
was  rare  that  he  was  not  kindly  and  winning  and  instructive. 
He  was  not  a  great  reader  of  books,  though  a  devoted  admirer 
and  re-reader  of  Scott.  But  he  knew  life  and  nature,  and  his 
observations  on  the  men  who  walked,  the  birds  that  flew,  and 


THE   FIRST   YEAKS   OF   WORK.  43 

the  fishes  that  swam,  were  always  original  and  suggestive.  He 
had  sti'ong  domestic  affections,  and  his  friendships  were  sincere 
and  permanent.  All  his  senses  were  keen  j  he  was  ahve  to  the 
beauties  of  landscape,  flowers,  and  poetry.  He  was  choice 
and  dehcate  in  his  food.  He  had  a  quick  sense  of  humor, 
and  a  magnetic  force  in  conversation.  His  words  were  loaded 
with  conviction.  He  did  not  write  much,  but  his  letters  or 
his  newspaper  contributions — for  he  was  a  fi'equent  contrib- 
utor of  editorial  paragraphs  or  communications  to  the  Me- 
piiblican — were  always  in  a  pure,  incisive  Enghsh  style, 
noticeable  chiefly  for  their  strength,  and  yet  were  not  without 
frequent  felicities  of  expression.  He  struggled  in  early  life 
against  the  family  tendency  to  consumption.  It  was  this  that 
drove  him  so  much  out-of-doors,  and  to  his  free,  generous 
way  of  hving.  But  whether  it  was  natural  or  acquired,  or 
partly  both,  he  grew  to  have  great  enjoyment  in  field  sports, 
and  he  drew  from  them  a  quality  of  happiness  and  invigora- 
tion  which  undoubtedly  heightened  his  facilities  and  certainly 
prolonged  his  hfe. 

"  At  his  own  or  a  friend's  dinner-table  he  was  almost  incom- 
parably feUcitous.  He  had  a  thought  and  a  word  for  every- 
body at  the  table,  man,  woman,  or  child,  and  it  fitted  exactly 
to  the  level  of  each  hfe.  Of  pohtics  ;  of  fishing  or  hunting  ;  of 
flowers  or  natui'e  in  general ;  of  the  raising  of  vegetables  ;  of 
meats  and  their  cooking  —  no  housewife  but  could  learn  some- 
thing from  him  here  ;  of  litei-ature  ;  of  men,  women,  things  ;  — 
while  there  was  nothing  pedantic,  he  yet  had  a  thought  and  a 
knowledge  upon  them  all.  A  royal  night,  we  remember,  he 
gave  a  few  of  his  friends  when  Thackeray  was  in  Springfield. 
He  led  in  the  feast  of  good  things,  skillfully  avoiding  all  pos- 
sible shoals,  smoothing  any  ruffling  of  feathers  that  might 
come  from  any  transatlantic  prejudices  or  a  thoughtless  re- 
mark. The  company  floated  out  for  hours  on  a  tide  of  humor,  of 
brilhant  gossip  and  suggestive  criticism,  in  which  i\rr.  Ashmun 
was  astonishingly  seconded  by  his  fiiend  from  Greenfield," — 
George  T.  Davis, —  "the  most  briUiant  table-talker  of  Amer- 
ica ;  so  that  even  Thackeray,  accustomed  to  the  finest  society 
of  England  as  well  as  of  America,  often  laid  down  his  knife 


44       THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

and  fork, —  a  thing  he  was  not  wont  to  do  without  occasion, — 
and  hstened  or  applauded  with  wonder. 

"  For  several  years,  while  his  brain  has  been  clear  and 
strong  as  ever,  and  his  digestive  faculties  healthy,  there  has 
been  growing  over  him  a  palsy  of  the  nervous  system,  accom- 
panied with  great  suffering,  and  with  a  growing  inability  to 
move.  .  .  .  He  has  now  passed  away, —  a  man  greater  in 
nature  and  in  capacity  than  in  deeds,  but  yet  supreme  among 
his  fellows  in.  all  action.  We  do  not  forget  his  failings  and  his 
misfortunes,  but  there  arise  above  them  aU  the  peerless  quah- 
ties  of  mind  and  heart  that  made  him  walk  a  king  among  men, 
and  drew  aroimd  him  a  circle  of  devoted  and  loving  friends." 


CHAPTER  VII. 
The  Mexican  Wak  and  the  Free-soil  Party. 

THE  strength  of  the  Daily  Republican  from  the  first 
lay  largely  in  its  political  discussions.  While  as  a 
newspaper  it  was  still  insignificant,  it  often  handled  the 
political  questions  of  the  day  with  a  breadth,  intelligence, 
and  vigor  which  few  journals  then  or  afterward  sur- 
passed. The  most  effective  of  these  articles,  during  this 
early  period,  were  undoubtedly  from  the  pen  of  Mr.  Cal- 
houn. But  the  general  attitude  of  the  Republican  upon 
the  national  questions  of  the  time  was  determined  by  the 
Bowleses ;  others  might  influence,  but  never  dictate. 

The  beginning  of  the  Daily  Republican  coincided  with 
the  appearance  of  the  Slavery  question  as  a  chief  factor 
in  American  politics.  In  1844,  the  birth-year  of  the 
paper,  a  treaty  for  the  annexation  of  Texas  was  signed 
by  President  Tyler,  and  a  joint  resolution  approving  the 
treaty  was  introduced  in  Congress.  This  thrust  upon 
the  nation  the  question  of  an  aggressive  policy  toward 
Mexico,  involving  the  probability  of  war  and  the  annex- 
ation of  more  slave  territory.  The  Whig  party  as  a 
whole  was  opposed  to  the  acquisition,  partly  on  anti- 
slavery  grounds,  partly  as  the  traditional  champion  of  a 
moderate  foreign  policy.  Its  presidential  candidate, 
Henry  Clay,  was  supposed  to  be  hostile  to  the  annexation, 
but  his  position  was  somewhat  ambiguous,  and  he  lost 


46        THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

the  confidence  of  Seward  and  the  New  York  Whigs.  The 
Democrats  and  their  candidate  Polk  were  for  immediate 
annexation,  with  the  resulting  increase  of  slave  territory, 
and  at  the  price  of  war  if  necessary.  The  "  Liberty 
party  " —  organized  in  1840  by  those  of  the  Abolitionists 
who  believed  in  political  action  for  the  gradual  sup- 
pression of  slavery,  and  who  at  that  time  separated 
from  Garrison  and  his  immediate  associates  —  nominated 
James  G.  Birney  for  President.  Their  action  drew  enough 
votes  from  Clay  to  give  the  presidency  to  Polk. 

During  this  period  the  Eepuhlican  was  anti-slavery  and 
Whig.  In  its  first  number,  March  29,  1844,  an  article 
was  quoted  in  regard  to  Mr.  Clay, —  already  recognized 
as  the  coming  presidential  candidate  of  the  Whigs, — 
representing  him  as  a  champion  of  protection,  internal 
improvements,  close  commercial  alliances  with  Mexico 
and  the  South  American  republics,  and  '^  a  system  of 
American  policy."  The  first  long  editorial,  April  23,  de- 
nounces the  annexation  of  Texas,  just  brought  before 
Congress  for  its  confirmation,  and  makes  a  vigorous  and 
stirring  appeal  to  the  North  to  oppose  it.  Through  the 
ensuing  campaign  the  Republican  heartily  supported 
Clay,  and  urged  as  the  leading  issues  the  defeat  of  annex- 
ation and  the  maintenance  of  a  high  tariff. 

The  election  of  Polk  was  a  popular  sanction  of  the 
annexation  of  Texas,  which  was  accordingly  consummated 
by  President  Tyler's  administration  as  its  closing  act. 
Texas  had  recently  won  its  independence  from  Mexico. 
It  had  been  greatly  aided  therein  by  immigrants  from 
the  neighboring  American  states ;  and  by  their  influence 
slavery,  abolished  by  Mexico,  had  been  reestablished. 
Texas,  with  the  assent  of  its  people,  was  now  admitted 
to  the  Union  as  a  slave  state.  The  boundary  line  be- 
tween Texas  and  Mexico  was  in  dispute,  Texas  insisting 
on  the  Rio  Grande  as  the  dividing  line,  and  Mexico 


THE   MEXICAN   WAK   AND   THE   FKEE-SOIL   PARTY.    47 

claiming  the  Nueces.  President  Polk  threw  into  the  dis- 
puted region  a  military  force  under  command  of  General 
Taylor ;  Taylor's  forces  and  the  Mexicans  came  into  col- 
lision; and  Congress  hastened  to  declare  war.  Taylor 
won  a  succession  of  brilliant  victories  and  penetrated 
deep  into  the  Mexican  territory ;  and  General  Scott  cap- 
tured Vera  Cruz,  fought  his  way  to  the  capital  city, 
and  took  it.  The  war  lasted  two  years,  and  was  ended 
early  in  1848  by  a  treaty  in  which  Mexico  gave  up 
the  immense  region  afterward  organized  as  California, 
New  Mexico,  and  Utah,  and  received  fifteen  million 
dollars.  The  acquisition  of  this  territory  was  the  real 
purpose  of  the  conquest  which  the  United  States  achieved 
over  its  weak  neighbor. 

The  war  had  its  chief  support  in  the  South  and  in  the 
Democratic  party.  It  roused  at  the  North  a  strong  pro- 
test, in  the  name  of  peace  and  of  freedom, —  a  protest  of 
which  the  lasting  literary  memorial  is  the  "  Biglow  Papers." 
The  Whig  party  in  general,  and  especially  its  Northern 
wing,  opposed  the  war  throughout,  and  was  emphatically 
hostile  to  the  acquisition  of  any  more  slave  territory. 
When  in  1846  a  proposal  was  made  in  Congress  to  give 
the  President  $2,000,000,  with  which  to  purchase  an  ad- 
vantageous ^eace,  David  Wilmot,  of  Pennsylvania,  moved 
in  the  House  to  add  a  proviso  declaring  that  in  all  new 
territory  that  might  be  acquired  slavery  should  be  pro- 
hibited. The  proviso  passed  the  House,  receiving  almost 
the  solid  Northern  vote,  but  it  was  defeated  in  the  Sen- 
ate. The  "  Wilmot  Proviso "  became  the  watchword  of 
the  Northern  Whigs. 

The  Republican  was  in  hearty  sympathy  with  the  anti- 
war and  anti-slavery  sentiment.  Indeed,  of  open  oppo- 
sition to  that  sentiment  there  was  very  little  to  be  found 
in  the  state.  Webster  presented  in  the  Senate  a  resolu- 
tion affirming  the  principle  of  the  Wilmot  Proviso,  which 


48        THE   LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

had  been  adopted  in  the  Massachusetts  House  by  a  unan- 
imous vote.  The  political  situation  is  well  illustrated  by 
the  action  of  the  Whig  State  Convention  at  Springfield, 
September  30, 1847.  Scott  had  given  the  finishing  stroke 
to  the  war  by  the  capture  of  the  city  of  Mexico  a  fort- 
night before,  though  the  fact  was  not  known  until  four 
days  later.  The  Democratic  Convention  had  nominated 
for  governor  General  Caleb  Gushing,  who  was  fighting 
in  Mexico ;  had  voted  down  a  Wilmot  Proviso  resolu- 
tion ;  and  in  its  platform  had  ignored  the  slavery  ques- 
tion. Of  the  Whig  Convention  George  Ashmun  was 
president.  Webster,  the  idol  of  the  Massachusetts 
Whigs,  made  one  of  his  lucid  and  powerful  speeches. 
He  declared  that  the  Whigs  of  the  entire  country  are 
opposed  to  the  addition  of  any  new  territory,  free  or 
slave ;  that  the  Southern  Democrats  want  more  slave 
territory,  and  the  Northern  Democrats  more  free  terri- 
tory ;  and  the  two  wings  have  combined  to  rob  Mexico, 
leaving  the  disposition  of  the  plunder  to  be  settled  later. 
He  said :  '^  I  never  have  voted,  I  never  shall,  I  never  will 
vote  for  further  annexation  to  this  country  with  a  slave 
representation  upon  it.  Slave  representation  in  a  political 
point  of  view  is  an  all-important  subject.  The  moral 
view  is  great,  I  know,  but  it  is  with  the  former  that  I 
have  only  to  do  in  my  capacity  as  legislator."  The  reso- 
lutions of  the  convention  called  for  "  Peace  with  Mexico 
without  dismemberment."  They  declared  that  there 
should  be  no  addition  of  Mexican  territory  to  the 
American  Union ;  but  should  any  be  annexed,  it  must 
be  free.  Webster  was  named  for  the  presidency.  These 
resolutions  having  been  unanimously  carried,  another 
was  proposed,  declaring  that  the  Whigs  of  the  state  will 
support  no  man  for  the  presidency  who  is  not  opposed 
to  slavery  extension.  This  resolution  was  supported  by 
Sumner,   Palfrey,  and  C.  F.  Adams,  and  opposed  by 


THE   MEXICAN   WAK   AND   THE   FKEE-SOIL   PAKTY.    49 

Robert  C.  Winthi'op  and  others,  and  was  defeated  by  a 
large  majority.  The  Republican  approved  the  conven- 
tion's action  and  Webster's  speech,  but  maintained  that 
the  additional  resolution  ought  to  have  been  adopted. 

While  party  politics  were  taking  this  course,  a  little 
band  of  the  most  zealous  Abolitionists,  with  G-arrison  at 
their  head,  were  uttering  fierce  denunciation  against  the 
sin  of  slavery,  but  stood  aloof  altogether  from  the 
voter's  function  and  from  the  whole  political  system  of 
which  Southern  slavery  was  an  integral  part.  Garrison, 
who  had  never  acted  with  the  **  Liberty  party,"  reached 
in  1844  the  position  of  directly  assailing  the  Constitu- 
tion, by  which  slavery  was  protected  as  a  local  institu- 
tion, and  the  Union  in  which  a  slave-holding  element 
was  a  factor.  Thenceforth  his  cry  was  ''  The  United 
States  Constitution  is  a  covenant  with  death  and  an 
agreement  with  hell."  Before  this,  he  and  some  of  his 
associates  had  begun  to  denounce  the  American  churches, 
for  their  complicity  with  slavery.  They  thus  struck  at 
two  of  the  most  powerful  sentiments  among  the  better 
class  of  Americans,  —  ecclesiastical  Christianity  and 
loyalty  to  the  nation.  They  smote  as  unsparingly  as 
the  Hebrew  prophets  rebuked  the  ceremonial  system 
when  it  cloaked  impiety.  They  denounced  the  churches 
and  the  Union  at  the  same  time  that  they  were  attacking 
one  of  the  strongest  material  and  political  forces  in  the 
country,  and  def jdng  the  basest  prejudices  of  the  mob. 

The  Eepuhlican,  like  the  great  majority  of  Northern 
people,  had  no  sympathy  with  the  principles  or  methods 
of  the  Garrisonian  Abolitionists.  It  was  hostile  to  them 
in  their  assaults  on  the  Union  and  the  churches,  was 
offended  by  their  violence  of  language,  was  unsympa- 
thetic toward  the  brood  of  reforms  with  which  they  often 
made  common  cause,  and  showed  little  appreciation  of 
the  self-sacrificing  earnestness  and  the  grasp  of  one  great 
Vol.  I.— 4 


50        THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF    SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

truth  which  ennobled  their  cause.  The  early  attitude  of 
its  leading  editor  toward  slavery  may  be  illustrated  from 
his  letters  to  the  paper,  when  traveling  in  the  South  in 
the  winter  of  1844-5.  In  these  there  is  little  mention 
of  slavery ;  but  the  closing  letter  contains  this  para- 
graph : 

"  The  fact  is,  in  regard  to  slavery,  the  owners  are  generally 
much  more  the  objects  of  pity  and  sympathy  than  the  slaves  ; 
they  suffer  from  its  bhghting  cm-se  greatly  and  sensibly,  while 
the  latter  are  more  contented,  better  fed  and  clothed,  than  the 
free  blacks  either  at  the  North  or  South.  This  is  true,  if  my 
observation  the  past  winter  has  been  worth  anything,  and  I 
ftdly  beheve  that  a  great  majority  of  citizens  of  the  slave 
states  are  fully  aware  how  great  the  curse  is  which  weighs 
them  down,  and  would  gladly  throw  it  off,  if  it  could  be  done 
in  any  reasonable  and  proper  manner,  without  completely  im- 
poverishing them,  or  endangering  their  personal  safety  and 


Evidently  the  young  man  —  he  was  only  nineteen — ob- 
served and  judged  for  himseK ;  but  his  observation  did 
not  yet  go  below  the  surface  of  things.  He  judged  by  a 
materialistic  standard  ; —  the  slaves  he  saw  were  well  fed 
and  clothed ;  why  pity  them  overmuch  ?  But  the  system 
was  bad  economy  for  the  masters ;  trust  their  self-interest 
to  get  rid  of  it !  This  materialism,  this  want  of  moral 
intuition  and  enthusiasm,  tinged  all  the  early  course  of 
the  Republican  on  the  Slavery  question,  and  made  it  con- 
stantly unjust  to  the  Abolitionists.  Yet  the  Republican's 
condemnation  of  slavery  during  these  years  was  sincere 
and  earnest,  and  expressed  that  grave  conviction  of  its 
wrong  and  folly  in  which  the  general  sentiment  of 
New  England  was  agreed.  The  practical  difficulty  and 
divergence  came  upon  the  question  of  what  political 
action  was  advisable  in  the  matter.    It  was  impossible 


THE   MEXICAN   WAK   AND   THE   FEEE-SOIL   PAKTY.    51 

to  make  political  attack  on  slavery  where  it  abeady 
existed,  without  disregarding  the  Constitution  and  de- 
stroying the  Union.  To  this  the  great  majority  of  the 
Northern  people  —  the  majority  too  of  the  conscientious 
and  intelligent  —  were  always  opposed.  On  the  question 
of  breaking  up  the  whole  political  fabric  to  eradicate 
slavery, —  or  rather  to  relieve  the  North  from  complicity 
in  it;  since  after  disunion  the  South  would  still  have 
retained  slavery, —  on  this  question  the  extreme  Aboli- 
tionists were  always  a  small  minority.  But  when  the 
question  arose  whether  the  national  authority  should 
establish  slavery  within  the  national  territorial  domain, 
and  even  whether  new  territory  should  be  conquered  that 
slavery  might  be  extended, —  then  the  most  conserva- 
tive of  citizens,  the  most  constitutional  of  Whigs,  could 
unite  to  maintain  the  cause  of  Freedom. 

When  the  presidential  election  of  1848  was  approach- 
ing, and  Greneral  Taylor  came  into  prominence  as  the 
Whig  candidate,  the  Bepublican  urged  two  questions: 
What  is  his  position  as  to  the  annexation  of  slave  terri- 
tory, and  what  as  to  the  spoils-of-ofBce  system!  But 
neither  General  Taylor  nor  his  friends  made  any  answer 
to  such  questions.  Of  his  political  opinions  almost  noth- 
ing was  known ;  his  personal  reputation  was  that  of  an 
honest,  soldierly  man, —  '■'■  Old  Rough  and  Ready "  ;  his 
recommendation  as  a  candidate  was  the  fame  he  had  won 
in  a  war  which  the  Whigs  had  from  first  to  last  denounced. 
But  the  national  convention  sacrificed  everything  to  suc- 
cess. Webster  and  Clay,  the  brains  and  the  heart  of  the 
party,  were  discarded  in  favor  of  Taylor.  In  deference 
to  the  party's  Southern  wing,  the  resolutions  wholly 
ignored  the  living  questions  of  territorial  extension  and 
slavery.  It  was  a  most  inglorious  surrender  of  principle 
to  expediency.     On  the  floor  of  the  convention  two  Mas- 


52         THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

sachusetts  delegates,  Henry  Wilson  and  Charles  Allen 
of  Worcester,  declared  that  they  would  not  support  the 
party  nominee.  They  went  home,  and  with  such  men 
as  Sumner,  C.  F.  Adams,  and  Samuel  Hoar,  leaders  of 
"  the  conscience  Whigs," —  as  the  phrase  now  went, —  met 
in  convention,  and  sent  delegates,  chosen  equally  from 
the  three  existing  parties,  to  the  national  Free-soil  Con- 
vention at  Buffalo.  In  that  body  were  Chase  and  Gid- 
dings  of  Ohio,  and  a  strong  representation  from  a  section 
of  New  York  Democrats,  who  were  in  revolt  against  their 
party  on  grounds  partly  anti-slavery  and  partly  personal. 
The  Liberty  party  was  merged  in  the  Free-soil,  whose 
creed  was  the  exclusion  of  slavery  from  the  territories ; 
and  Martin  Van  Buren  and  C.  F,  Adams  were  nominated 
for  President  and  Vice-President. 

Here  was  a  party  that  stood  clear  and  strong  on  the 
great  coming  question.  Yet  the  political  situation  had 
still  its  grave  embarrassments  for  the  anti-slavery  voter. 
There  was  no  chance  of  Van  Buren's  election.  The 
presidency  lay  really  between  Taylor  and  the  Democratic 
nominee.  General  Cass  of  Michigan.  The  dilemma  was  : 
to  assert  a  principle,  and  build  up  a  party  of  the  future, 
at  the  risk  of  letting  in  the  worse  candidate  at  present ; 
or  to  aim  at  an  immediate  gain,  by  the  choice  of  the  less 
objectionable  of  two  leading  candidates.  Fresh  in  mind 
was  the  election  of  four  years  before,  and  the  disastrous 
result  of  Birney's  candidacy,  in  the  election  of  Polk,  and 
the  Mexican  war.  The  Free-soil  party  had  an  unattractive 
element  in  the  New  York  Democratic  seceders  — "■  Barn- 
burners" in  the  slang  of  the  time  —  who  cared  little  for 
anti-slavery,  and  much  for  avenging  the  wrongs  of  Van 
Buren  and  Silas  Wright.  Whigs  as  strongly  anti-slavery 
as  Seward  and  Greeley  thought  that  that  party  still 
offered  the  best  practical  ground  for  opposing  slavery 
extension.     It  was  one  of  those  perplexing  situations 


THE   MEXICAN   WAR   AND   THE   FREE -SOIL   PARTY.    53 

"which  must  often  occur  in  politics; — or  in  any  other 
field  where  men  seek  to  obtain  the  ideal  under  the  limita- 
tions of  the  real. 

It  is  at  this  juncture  that  we  can  first  identify  Mr. 
Bowles's  personal  work  as  a  political  writer.  ''For  a 
good  while,"  says  his  old  foreman,  Chauncey  "White,  ''  he 
didn't  do  much  political  writing.  But  one  evening  in  a 
presidential  campaign — it  was  in  the  Taylor  year  —  he 
had  been  out  to  report  a  speech,  and  he  came  in  tearing 
mad,  and  sat  down  and  wrote  a  reply  to  it.  The  article 
was  so  spicy  that  it  pleased  Ashmun,  who  came  in  to 
ask  who  wrote  it.  I  think  that  was  about  the  beginning 
of  Mr.  Bowles's  political  writing."  This  must  have  been 
the  article  published  June  3,  1848.  The  occasion  was  a 
Free-soil  speech  in  Springfield,  by  Joshua  Griddings,  fore- 
shadowing the  nomination  of  Van  Buren.  The  editorial, 
in  comment  and  reply,  is  marked  by  a  good-tempered 
vigor  and  pungency.*  It  takes  issue  with  Mr.  Giddings 
chiefly  on  the  question  of  Van  Buren's  fitness  to  repre- 
sent opposition  to  slavery  extension,  and  cites  his  record 
as  a  supporter  of  slavery  and  its  aggressions. 

"  What  then,  up  to  the  month  of  June  just  past,  has  Martin 
Van  Buren  done,  that  should  win  for  Mm  the  praise  of  anti- 
slavery  men  ?  During  his  whole  pohtical  fife,  he  has  been  the 
most  abject  tool  of  the  slave  power.  He  earned  by  his  readi- 
ness, nay,  his  eagerness,  to  serve  their  interests  and  forward 
their  purposes,  the  name  of  '  the  Northern  man  with  Southern 
principles.'  If  he  has,  in  the  retiracy  of  his  private  life,  at  last 
discovered  and  forsook  the  errors  of  his  whole  previous  exist- 
ence, and  come  to  the  stool  of  repentance,  weU  and  good.  We 
rejoice.  No  one  wiU  do  so  more  heartily.  But  while  the  sad 
results  of  the  betrayal  of  Northern  rights,  interests,  and  prin- 
cii)les  are  so  vividly  before  us,  we  cannot  join  in  the  high- 
sounding  pgeans  of  praise  to  his  character  that  we  hear  from 
some  quarters.  We  cannot  join  in  efforts  to  elevate  him  to  a 
place  he  once  so  wrongly  and  so  injuriously  to  the  country's 


54        THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

prosperity  occupied.  No,  not  at  least  until  his  acts  speak  for 
Ms  repentance  as  well  as  Ms  words.  We  give  in  to  no  man  in 
opposing  the  extension  of  slavery.  We  are  for  Free  Soil  and 
Free  Labor.  Our  efforts  are  pledged  to  this  end.  But  we  can- 
not yet  see  our  way  clear  to  follow  Mr.  Giddings'  lead.  That 
nasty  word  '  Compromise'  is  already  introduced  into  the  Senate. 
Congress  is  the  battle-gi'ound  of  Slavery  and  Freedom.  We  are 
ready  to  meet  the  shock.  If  the  North  stands  by  its  rights,  we 
triumph ;  if  not,  we  fall.  Our  motto  is,  '  No  compromise ' ; 
'  No  more  slave  territory.''  " 

Upon  this  ground,  through  the  ensuing  campaign,  the 
paper  opposed  Van  Buren.  It  supported  Taylor  as  an 
honest,  patriotic,  and  moderate  man,  who  could  be  trusted 
to  oppose  all  aggressive  and  dangerous  measures.  The 
impression  generally  prevailed  that  as  a  matter  of  per- 
sonal opinion  he  was  opposed  to  the  extension  of  slavery. 
But  on  this  supreme  question  he  made  no  public  utter- 
ance. This  campaign  brought  a  great  access  of  strong 
leaders  to  the  Free-soil  party  in  Massachusetts.  From  the 
Democrats  came  such  men  as  Robert  Rantoul  and  N.  P. 
Banks ;  from  the  Whigs,  Charles  Sumner,  Henry  Wilson, 
and  C.  F.  Adams.  The  moral  enthusiasts,  and  the  men 
of  practical  instinct  for  the  coming  future,  tended  to  the 
party  which  stood  distinctly  for  freedom.  It  was  such  a 
company  as  the  Samuel  Bowles  of  a  few  years  later  would 
have  been  sure  to  be  found  in.  But  he  had  not  yet  got 
his  growth,  and  the  influence  of  Ashmun  doiibtless  did 
much  to  hold  the  Reiniblican  among  the  loyal  followers 
of  the  Whig  flag.  Horace  Greeley,  who  at  a  late  day 
and  with  reluctance  yielded  his  support  to  Taylor,  was 
perfectly  frank  in  avowing  his  dissatisfaction  with  his 
attitude  upon  slavery.  He  expressed  this  regret  in  his 
printed  campaign  addresses  to  the  Whigs  of  doubtful 
states  ;  and  by  that  very  frankness,  he  added  weight  to 
his  appeals, —  appeals  in  which  common  sense,  logic  and 


THE   MEXICAN   WAE   AND   THE   FKEE-SOIL   PARTY.    55 

passion  were  blended  with  an  effectiveness  which  hardly 
any  other  American  has  equaled.  The  Repuhlican  made 
no  such  frank  admission  as  to  Taylor's  deficiencies.  It 
made  the  best  of  him,  not  with  extravagant  laudation, 
but  with  skillful  magnifying  of  his  strong  points  and 
silence  as  to  the  weak  ones.  In  this  it  followed  the 
fashion  of  loyal  partisanship. 

The  Whigs  won  the  day.  The  Southern  Whig,  Taylor, 
received  163  electoral  votes,  and  the  Northern  Democrat, 
Cass,  127, —  drawn  in  pretty  equal  proportions  from  the 
two  sections.  Van  Buren  got  no  electoral  vote ;  of  his 
popular  vote  of  290,000,  almost  a  third  was  drawn  from 
New  York  state;  there  and  in  Massachusetts  he  had 
more  votes  than  Cass.  The  Free-soil  party  owed  its 
strength  largely  to  a  local  and  temporary  feud  of  the 
Democracy,  which  added  to  it  nothing  permanent.  But 
it  had  laid  a  foundation  for  the  Republican  party.  At 
present,  the  anti-slavery  element  among  the  Whigs  was 
strong.  Webster  and  his  followers  had  given  only  a 
half-hearted  support  to  Taylor,  and  were  disaffected  to- 
ward his  administration  from  the  first.  But  Seward  was 
elected  to  the  Senate  from  New  York ;  and  Seward  had 
already  declared,  in  a  speech  at  Cleveland :  "  Slavery  can 
be  limited  to  its  present  bounds ;  it  can  be  ameliorated ; 
and  it  can  be  abolished ;  —  and  you  and  I  must  do  it." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Personal  and  Family  Life. 

WHILE  a  boy  in  Mr.  Eaton's  school,  Mr.  Bowles  had 
met  among  his  fellow-pupils  Miss  Mary  S.  D. 
Schermerhorn,  a  daughter  of  H.  V.  R.  Schermerhorn,  of 
Greneva,  N.  Y.,  and  grand-daughter  of  James  S.  Dwight, 
the  leading  Springfield  merchant  of  the  first  quarter  of 
the  centmy.  Miss  Schermerhorn  while  attending  the 
school  lived  in  an  uncle's  family ;  she  had  numerous  rel- 
atives in  the  town;  and  when  school  years  were  over, 
the  two  young  people  had  opportunities  for  continued 
acquaintance,  which  ripened  into  an  engagement.  They 
were  married  at  the  bride's  home,  September  6,  1848. 
No  time  for  a  wedding  journey ;  they  were  married  on 
Wednesday,  and  on  the  following  Saturday  the  editor 
was  back  at  his  post.  The  young  wife  identified  herself 
from  the  fii-st  with  her  husband's  interests  and  aims. 
Thi'ough  their  thirty  years  of  married  life  she  gave  an 
entire  devotion  to  his  comfort  and  happiness,  and  was 
repaid  by  a  loyal  affection,  and  a  constant  and  consider- 
ate helpfulness  which  the  most  exacting  demands  of  his 
profession  never  abated.  He  had  now  the  resource  with- 
out which  no  worker  is  rightly  equipped  and  no  man  is 
a  full  man.  When  in  his  later  life  he  was  asked  by  one 
of  his  younger  Ueutenants  the  cause  of  his  success,  he 
answered  "I  married  early,  and  I  worked  with  all  my 
might." 

66 


PEKSONAL   AND   FAMILY  LIFE.  57 

The  young  couple  made  theii'  home  with  the  parents. 
The  elder  Mrs.  Bowles  gave  a  mother's  kindness  to  the 
young  wife,  who  had  lost  her  own  mother  while  still  a 
child.  The  son  was  receiving  from  his  father  five  hun- 
dred dollars  a  year  for  his  services,  and  on  that  sum  he 
and  his  wife  at  fii'st  lived.  After  a  year  or  two,  a  prop- 
erty of  $10,000  coming  to  him,  he  bought  with  a  portion 
of  this  money  a  part  of  the  block  into  which  the  paper 
had  been  moved.  It  had  exchanged  its  first  quarters 
over  the  Chicopee  Bank,  on  the  corner  of  Main  and  Elm 
streets,  for  rooms  on  the  north-east  corner  of  Market 
and  Saudford  streets.  For  the  sum  thus  invested  he  re- 
ceived from  his  father  the  ownership  of  one-half  of  the 
paper. 

After  Mr.  Stowe  had  worked  with  the  Repullican  for 
a  few  months,  he  was  called  to  another  position.  In  his 
place  came  Samuel  H.  Davis,  a  son  of  Rev.  Dr.  Davis, 
of  Westfield.  Young  Davis  was  a  man  of  fine  parts  and 
good  education.  In  him  the  young  editor  found  for  the 
fii'st  time  a  thoroughly  competent  ally  in  the  higher  de- 
partment of  his  work.  He  was  not  only  a  good  writer, 
but  was  able  and  willing  to  share  the  responsibility  for 
the  executive  labor  of  the  paper.  The  younger  Bowles 
looked  hopefully  to  him  as  the  coming  writer  of  the 
Bepuhlican.  So  he  used  to  tell  his  friends,  saying  that 
for  himself  he  did  not  expect  to  accomplish  much  as  an 
editorial  writer, — the  general  management  of  the  paper 
would  be  his  province.  Mr.  Davis  slept  in  the  office,  and 
took  his  meals  with  the  Bowles  family,  which  included 
father  and  son  with  their  wives,  the  unmarried  son, 
and  two  or  three  apprentices.  The  working  day  of  the 
younger  Samuel  Bowles  began  before  noon  and  lasted 
till  one  or  two  in  the  morning.  His  wife  shared  in  the 
household  work,  and  sometimes  late  at  night  went  down 
to  the  office;  and  when  there  came  a  little  leisure,  the 


58        THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

last  "  copy  "  having  gone  to  the  printers  and  the  proof  not 
yet  returned,  husband  and  wife  would  read  aloud  to  each 
other  from  some  book.  The  one  leisure  evening  of  the 
week  was  Saturday, — Mr.  Bowles's  ideal  of  ^' a  paper  every 
day  in  the  year  "  being  unrealized  till  thirty  years  later. 

But  in  the  early  spring  of  1850,  Davis  was  taken  sud- 
denly ill.  Mr.  Bowles  took  him  home  and  put  him  in  his 
own  room  ;  a  sharp,  brief  illness  followed,  and  the  young 
life  so  full  of  promise  came  to  its  end.  To  Mr.  Bowles 
it  was  the  loss  of  a  brotherly  comrade,  and  the  right 
hand  of  his  enterprise.  Whoever  might  sicken,  whoever 
might  die,  the  daily  paper  must  go  on,  and  go  on  well. 
Through  these  hard  days  when  Davis  lay  sick,  and  after 
his  death,  its  pages  were  just  as  full  and  vigorous  as  be- 
fore. The  assistant's  place  was  not  vacant  long.  Dr.  J. 
G.  Holland,  who  had  just  come  back  to  the  town  after  a 
year  or  two  of  teaching  and  school  superintendence  at  the 
South,  was  invited  to  take  the  place  of  associate  editor, 
and  entered  at  once  on  the  work.  The  first  year  he  was 
paid  $480;  the  next  year,  $700;  and  then  there  was  sold 
to  him  a  quarter  of  the  paper  for  $3500.  The  elder  Mr. 
Bowles  had  come  to  be  engaged  wholly  in  the  affairs  of 
Ihe  counting-room.  For  four  or  five  years  the  whole 
editorial  work  of  the  paper  was  done  by  the  younger 
Bowles  and  Dr.  Holland. 

Through  these  years,  Mr.  Bowles's  family  life  was 
eventful.  His  first  child,  a  daughter,  Sarah  Augusta, 
was  born  in  June,  1850.  Sometimes,  coming  home  from 
work  after  midnight,  he  would  walk  the  floor  with  the 
baby  in  his  arms,  to  soothe  it,  so  fatigued  that  he  stumbled 
over  the  furniture  as  he  walked ;  but  to  this  his  wife 
soon  put  a  stop  by  assigning  to  him  a  separate  room. 
The  second  child,  a  son  named  after  his  father,  was  born 
in  October,  1851 ;  and  a  second  daughter,  Mary,  in  Janu- 
ary, 1854. 


PEESONAL   AND   FAMILY   LIFE.  59 

In  the  early  autumn  of  1851  came  a  succession  of  be- 
reavements. His  sister,  Mrs.  Julia  Foote,  lost  a  child, 
and  died  ten  days  afterward.  Ten  days  later  the 
illness  of  the  elder  Mr.  Bowles  ended  in  his  death. 
To  the  son  that  death  brought  a  great  sorrow,  and 
also  heavier  work.  The  responsibility  of  the  counting- 
room  came  now  on  him,  in  addition  to  the  editorial 
management.  The  strain  was  too  great ;  his  overtaxed 
eyes  began  to  suffer,  and  loss  of  sight  was  feared.  He 
went  in  the  spring  of  1852  to  the  home  of  his  sister,  Mrs. 
Henry  Alexander,  in  Brooklyn,  to  consult  New  York 
physicians.  In  the  middle  of  the  night  he  was  attacked 
by  ten-ible  pain  in  the  head ;  a  time  of  acute  suffering 
followed,  from  a  succession  of  abscesses  in  the  head; 
and  to  this  ensued  a  siege  of  inflammatory  rheumatism. 
At  one  time  there  were  fears  for  his  life.  His  wife  was 
bound  at  home  by  the  sickness  of  the  two  babies ;  but 
his  mother  came  to  watch  beside  him.  During  his  con- 
valescence his  presence  brightened  his  sister's  home.  In 
health  he  was  sometimes  irritable,  but  in  sickness  he  was 
wonderfully  patient.  The  household  remembered  the 
visit  with  delight.  The  moment  that  strength  began  to 
return,  his  keen  interest  in  public  affairs  revived;  and 
he  dictated  to  his  sister  many  letters  about  politics. 
When  he  went  back  to  Springfield,  it  was  with  health 
still  delicate,  and  for  a  year  or  two  following  he  was 
obliged  to  use  his  eyes  sparingly.  It  was  not  the  old 
home  to  which  he  returned.  A  great  project  had  been 
consummated  during  his  illness ;  his  own  little  family 
had  left  his  mother's  and  moved  into  a  house  of  their 
own.  The  step  had  become  of  clear  expedience,  but  he 
had  shrunk  from  it  somewhat ;  he  hesitated  at  leaving 
the  mother's  roof  and  encountering  the  unknown  cares 
and  responsibilities  of  a  separate  establishment  while  the 
burdens  of  his  work  were  so  heavy.     But  he  accepted 


60        THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

the  united  counsel  of  mother  and  wife,  and  the  wife 
oversaw  the  removal  of  the  household  goods,  when  by  his 
absence  he  was  spared  all  burden  of  the  details.  Through 
these  earlier  years,  she  took  almost  the  whole  of  the 
household  care.  Afterward,  when  children  were  numer- 
ous, and  the  enlargement  of  the  paper's  force  lightened 
his  load,  he  relieved  her  of  a  part  of  the  domestic  man- 
agement. 

A  man's  establishment  under  his  own  roof-tree  is 
generally  an  era  only  less  important  than  his  choice  of 
a  profession,  his  marriage,  and  his  first  child.  It  is  an 
especially  momentous  event  to  a  man  for  whom  mental 
labor,  with  its  sharp  strain  on  nerves  and  brain,  creates 
necessity  for  a  home  in  which  his  repose  can  be  made 
the  first  object.  That  advantage  Mr.  Bowles  fully  en- 
joyed from  this  time  onward.  The  new  house  was  on 
Maple  street,  on  the  lower  slope  of  "Ames's  hill," — a 
two-story  wooden  structure,  tasteful  and  comfortable, 
commanding  from  its  rear  a  fine  view  of  the  town,  half- 
hidden  by  trees,  the  river,  the  valley,  and  distant  hills. 
Its  occupants  took  as  rooms  for  constant  use  those  in 
the  real',  looking  toward  this  view.  With  full  mutual 
agreement,  they  furnished  the  house  modestly,  according 
to  their  means.  Now  the  wife  had  her  rightful  prov- 
ince,—  a  cosy  nest  for  the  increasing  little  brood ;  and 
there  was  a  quiet  resting-place  for  the  husband  in  the 
intervals  of  probably  the  closest,  hardest  work  that  was 
then  done  by  any  man  in  the  whole  region. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

The  Developing  Newspaper. 

THE  accession  of  Dr.  Holland  to  the  BepuhUcan  was  an 
important  event  in  its  history.  He  and  Mr.  Bowles 
supplemented  each  other.  Mr.  Bowles  was  a  born  journal- 
ist, and  showed  early  an  instinct  for  news,  an  aptitude  for 
poKties,  and  a  skill  in  administration.  His  development 
as  a  thinker  and  writer  came  later.  Dr.  Holland,  who 
was  seven  years  his  senior,  came  to  the  paper  equipped 
with  more  of  literary  culture  and  taste,  and  was  always 
a  writer  rather  than  an  editor.  He  was  strong  in  his 
convictions,  warm  in  his  feelings,  sensitive  to  the  moral 
element  in  any  question,  and  the  master  of  a  forcible, 
lucid,  and  popular  style.  His  interest  lay  not  so  much 
in  politics  as  in  the  personal  conduct  of  life,  and  social 
usages  and  institutions.  His  editorials  in  the  Republican 
were  one  of  the  earliest  signs  that  the  newspaper  press 
was  beginning  to  exercise,  along  with  its  other  functions, 
that  of  direct  moral  instruction,  which  had  hitherto  been 
almost  a  monopoly  of  the  church.  Many  of  his  articles 
were  short  and  pithy  lay  sermons.  They  dealt  du*ectly 
with  morals  and  religion,  in  their  practical  rather  than 
theological  applications.  They  discussed  such  topics  as 
the  mutual  duties  of  husbands  and  wives,  of  laborers  and 
employers ;  the  principles  of  conduct  for  young  men  and 
young  women,  and  the  like.     This  was  an  innovation  in 

61 


62        THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

journalism.  It  found  favor  among  a  community  which 
takes  life  seriously  and  earnestly.  It  signified  in  truth 
an  expansion  of  the  newspaper's  possibilities,  which  has 
as  yet  only  begun  to  be  worked  out.  Dr.  Holland  was 
admirably  qualified  for  a  pioneer  in  this  kind  of  work. 
He  was  so  far  in  sympathy  with  the  established  churches 
and  the  accepted  theology  that  he  reached  and  held  a 
wide  constituency,  while  he  was  little  trammeled  by 
theological  or  ecclesiastical  technicalities.  He  was  quite 
as  impatient  as  Mr.  Bowles  of  any  assumption  of  author- 
ity by  a  party  or  a  church,  and  the  Repuhlican  early 
showed  an  independence  of  the  clergy,  and  a  willingness 
to  criticise  them  on  occasion,  which  often  drew  wrath 
upon  its  head.  But  its  attitude  toward  the  churches  and 
the  religion  they  represented,  though  an  indej)endent 
was  also  a  friendly  one.  Such  theological  coloring  as 
the  paper  had,  came  from  Dr.  Holland  rather  than  Mr. 
Bowles,  and  was  what  would  now  be  described  as  liberal 
orthodox.  The  tone  was  conservative  as  to  the  observ- 
ance of  Sunday,  and  similar  questions,  and  even  op- 
posed the  theater  as  an  immoral  institution  —  a  position 
from  which  Dr.  Holland  receded  at  a  later  time,  while 
Mr.  Bowles  perhaps  never  shared  it.  Toward  the  aggres- 
sive social  and  intellectual  movements  of  which  New  Eng- 
land was  prolific  thirty  or  forty  years  ago, — Woman's 
Rights,  Abolitionism,  Transcendentalism, —  both  editors 
were  unfriendly. 

In  general,  Dr.  Holland  added  to  the  paper  a  higher 
literary  tone,  and  a  broader  recognition  of  human 
interests.  He  had  a  sympathetic  perception  of  the 
pathos,  the  humor,  the  dignity,  in  the  lives  of  the  com- 
mon folk.  He  wrote  one  article  on  "  The  little  tin  pails," 
carried  by  the  early  and  late  procession  of  laborers  ;  the 
suggestion  of  homely  fare,  of  wifely  provision,  of  the 
long  day's  labor  cheered  by  the  thought  of  the  evening 


THE   DEVELOPING   NEWSPAPEK.  63 

welcome.  He  was  emiuently  a  man  of  sentiment  and 
feeling.  It  belonged  to  his  mind,  and  to  his  somewhat 
narrow  education,  to  vividly  see  and  present  one  side  of 
a  question,  rather  than  to  comprehend  its  entirety ;  and 
this  was  at  once  his  limitation  and  his  strength,  for  the 
average  reader  follows  most  sympathetically  a  writer 
who  goes  straight  to  a  conclusion,  and  does  not  embar- 
rass him  with  qualifications  and  balancings.  Mr.  Bowles, 
on  the  other  hand,  guided  himself  by  his  reason  more 
than  by  his  feelings,  and  had  a  growing  instinct  and 
capacity  for  looking  at  all  sides  of  the  question.  It  was 
he  who  gave  its  central  inspiration  to  the  RejJuhJican,  and 
who  held  its  helm,  though  Dr.  Holland's  contribution  to 
the  paper  was  important  and  unique.  The  two  men 
worked  together  harmoniously,  but  never  came  into 
personal  intimac3^  Dr.  Holland  had  not  a  little  of  the 
clerical  attributes.  While  in  his  social  tastes  he  was 
democratic,  he  avoided  the  companionship  of  men  whose 
moral  standards  were  different  from  his  own.  His  faith, 
his  feeling,  his  sentiment, —  all  perfectly  genuine, —  were 
freely  expressed  to  the  world ;  they  were  the  material  of 
his  writing ;  they  found  expression  in  his  conversation. 
He  craved  appreciation  and  recognition.  He  was  a  man 
of  striking  and  handsome  presence,  and  in  his  bearing 
there  was  something  a  little  suggestive,  as  it  were,  of 
gown  and  bands, —  a  touch  of  self -consciousness.  Mr. 
Bowles,  on  the  other  hand,  was  always  ready  to  hob-nob 
with  any  man,  saint  or  sinner,  in  whom  he  found  any 
likable  quality.  His  highest  aspirations,  his  finest  feel- 
ings, were  not  carried  in  sight  of  the  world, —  they  were 
seldom  openly  expressed  in  his  writings,  or  in  his  ordi- 
nary conversation.  He  bore  himself  like  a  man  of  the 
world.  Any  approach  to  assumption  or  display  of  reli- 
gion provoked  his  sarcasm  or  scorn.  No  doubt  Holland 
often  thought  Bowles  irreverent,  not  to  say  heathenish, 


64        THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

and  Bowles  thought  Holland  something  of  a  prig. 
There  were  no  collisions  between  them ;  each  of  them 
respected  the  other's  rights  and  guarded  his  own ;  but 
they  kept  always  at  a  little  distance,  and  their  terms 
of  mutual  address  were  never  more  familiar  than  ''  Mr. 
Bowles "  and  '^  Dr.  Holland."  Each  man  liked  to  have 
the  first  place  in  his  world,  though  the  one  cared  more 
for  the  reality  of  power  and  the  other  desired  the  out- 
ward signs  of  recognition.  Opposite  as  they  were  in 
some  respects,  they  both  had  the  adaptiveness  and  the 
self-control  to  work  together  harmoniously  and  efficiently 
for  many  years,  until  circumstances  parted  them. 

The  Repuhliciui  was  all  the  time  growing  broader, 
brighter,  fuller  of  information.  It  was  making  itself  a 
necessity  to  everj^body.  It  reaped  continually  from  wider 
fields.  Telegraphic  news  was  now  a  constant  feature. 
In  1850  there  had  come  to  be  a  regular  column  of  "  Local 
Items,"  which  was  probably  the  first  thing  that  most 
readers  looked  at.  About  the  same  time,  Mr.  Bowles 
began  a  weekly  column  of  "  Religious  Intelligence  " —  a 
new  thing  in  secular  journalism.  By  Dr.  Holland,  seem- 
ingly, there  was  given  for  a  time  in  each  Saturday's 
paper  a  chapter  of  "  Sunday  Thoughts," — practical  ap- 
plications of  Christianity.  The  paper  showed  a  growing 
capacity  for  getting  hold  of  whatever  could  interest  its 
readers.  Its  editorial  matter  was  less  in  long  articles,  and 
more  in  pithy  and  pungent  paragraphs.  Politics  was  still 
the  chief  staple  of  its  discussions,  and  was  treated  always 
with  lucid  vigor.  It  had  not  yet  come  to  be  a  pioneer 
of  political  thought.  It  announced  itself  as  "  Whig  " — 
"  thoroughly,  devotedly,  but  not  blindly  Whig  "  (January 
16,  1851),  long  after  the  Whig  party  really  had  no  dis- 
tinctive opinions  on  the  great  rising  questions. 

The  papei*'s  growth  was  won  by  unsparing  labor,  by 
close  economy,  by  making  the  utmost  of  each  day,  yet 


THE   DEVELOPING   NEWSPAPER.  65 

looking  always  toward  the  future.  After  six  years  of 
existence,  it  claimed  (May  8,  1850)  a  larger  circulation 
than  any  daily  paper  in  New  England  outside  of  Boston. 
"  Up  to  the  present  time,"  it  added,  ''  the  RepuhJican  has 
been  no  direct  source  of  profit  to  its  proprietors.  As  fast 
as  money  has  been  made,  it  has  been  invested  in  im- 
provements, and  even  to  a  greater  extent,  by  several 
thousands ;  but  we  have  now  reached  a  point  where  we 
hope  to  see  the  scale  descending  on  the  other  side." 

Dr.  Holland,  just  after  Mr.  Bowles's  death,  wrote  as 
follows : 

"  As  I  think  of  my  old  associate,  and  the  earnest  exhausting 
work  he  was  doing  when  I  was  with  him,  he  seems  to  me  like 
a  great  golden  vessel,  rich  in  color  and  roughly  embossed,  fiUed 
with  the  elixir  of  hf  e,  which  he  poured  out  without  the  shghtest 
stint  for  the  consumption  of  this  people.  This  vessel  was  only 
fuU  at  the  first  and  it  was  never  replenished.  It  was  flUed  for 
an  expenditui-e  of  fifty  or  sixty  years,  but  he  kept  the  stream  so 
large  that  the  precious  contents  were  aU  decanted  at  thirty. 
The  sparkle,  the  vivacity,  the  drive,  the  power  of  the  Republican, 
as  I  knew  it  in  the  early  days,  the  fresh  and  ever  eager  interest 
with  which  it  was  every  morning  received  by  the  people  of 
Springfield  and  the  Connecticut  VaUey,  the  superiority  of  the 
paper  to  other  papers  of  its  class,  its  ever  widening  influence  — 
aU  these  cost  life.  We  did  not  know  when  we  tasted  it  and 
found  it  so  charged  with  zest  that  we  were  tasting  heart's  blood, 
but  that  was  the  priceless  element  that  commended  it  to  our 
appetites.  A  pale  man,  weaiy  and  ner\'ous,  crept  home  at  mid- 
night, or  at  one,  two,  or  three  o'clock  ia  the  morning,  and 
while  aU  natui-e  was  fresh  and  the  birds  were  singing,  and 
thousands  of  eyes  were  bending  eagerly  over  the  results  of 
his  night's  labor,  he  was  tossing  and  trying  to  sleep.  Yet 
this  work,  so  terrible  in  its  exactions  and  its  consequences, 
was  the  joy  of  this  man's  life  —  it  ^vas  this  man's  life;  and  as 
the  best  exponent  of  this  kind  of  devotion  to  an  idea  and  a 
life-work  I  have  ever  known,  I  give  its  memory  most  affec- 
tionate reverence. 

Vol.  I. — 5 


66        THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

"  His  love  of  thorouglmess  was  united  with  a  firm  personal 
belief  that  no  one  could  do  his  work  as  well  as  he  could  do  it 
himself.  His  strong  conviction  that  his  way  was  always  the 
best  way  led  him  to  fret  and  worry  over  the  work  of  others, 
and  to  do  aU  that  he  could  with  his  own  hands.  I  have  known 
him  in  the  early  part  of  his  career  to  sit  up  at  night  for  hours 
that  he  might  read  a  httle  batch  of  unimportant  proof,  which 
was  measurably  sure  in  the  foreman's  hands  to  come  out  right 
in  the  morning, —  little  fancying  that  he  was  selling  his  life  at 
that  petty  price.  Mr.  Bowles  died  of  overwork  and  over- 
watching,  and  proved  that  the  man  who,  in  a  large  administra- 
tive place,  undertakes,  in  any  considerable  degree,  to  execute 
his  own  plans  in  their  unimportant  details,  must  suffer  the 
penalty  of  death," 

There  is  much  truth  in  this  criticism.  Yet  it  was  only 
by  the  closest  devotion  to  his  work,  and  to  every  part 
of  his  work,  that  Mr.  Bowles,  starting  from  the  mea- 
gerest  foundations,  built  up  in  a  small  provincial  town 
one  of  the  best  newspapers  in  America.  He  may  have 
done  more  than  was  needful ;  he  may  have  sometimes 
waited  for  a  proof  when  it  was  unnecessary ;  but  in  a 
broad  way  it  was  because  the  proof-room,  the  press- 
room, the  counting-room,  as  well  as  the  sanctum,  all  felt 
the  ceaseless  vigilance,  the  unresting  energy,  of  that  one 
man,  that  the  paper  became  what  it  was. 

The  permanent  inroad  of  overwork  on  his  strength  did 
not  show  itself  for  a  number  of  years.  But  beyond  doubt 
its  secret  effect  was  early  wrought.  The  injury  to  his 
brain  of  which  he  died  was  doubtless  begun  before  he 
was  twenty-five, —  during  those  years  when  he  used  often 
to  take  a  bottle  of  cold  tea  to  the  office,  and  work  till  one 
or  two  in  the  morning  ;  while  on  two  nights  in  the  week 
he  snatched  but  a  few  hours'  sleep  on  a  lounge  in  the 
office,  and  was  at  work  with  the  daylight.  It  may  well 
be  that  at  that  time  there  was  wrought  an  actual  lesion 
of  the  brain,  which  left  only  a  thin  shell  between  the 


THE  DEVELOPING  NEWSPAPER.         67 

citadel  of  life  aud  its  enemy.  To  this  it  should  be  added 
that  he  formed  during  these  early  years  a  mental  habit 
of  literally  unresting  activity,  which  he  never  afterward 
could  throw  off.  He  was  splendidly  developing  all  his 
powers  of  work,  but  he  lost,  never  to  fully  recover  it,  the 
power  of  rest.  When,  in  later  years,  circumstances  gave 
him  the  opportunity  of  frequent  abstinence  from  work,  he 
had  forgotten — indeed  he  had  never  learned—  the  art  of 
repose,  and  could  only  exchange  one  activity  for  another. 

He  was  spending  his  life-blood, —  but  he  got  a  great 
price  for  it.  He  knew  what  he  was  doing  —  at  least  he 
thought  he  did.  When  his  friend  Edward  B.  Gillett,  of 
Westfield,  once  remonstrated  with  him  about  his  over- 
work, he  answered :  "  I  know  it  just  as  well  as  you  do. 
When  my  friends  point  out  that  I  am  working  toward  a 
breakdown,  they  seem  to  think  that  is  to  influence  my 
action.  Not  at  all !  I  have  got  the  lines  drawn,  the 
current  flowing,  and  by  throwing  my  weight  here  now, 
I  can  count  for  something.  If  I  make  a  long  break  or 
parenthesis,  to  get  strong,  I  shall  lose  my  chance.  No 
man  is  living  a  life  that  is  worth  living,  unless  he  is 
willing  if  need  be  to  die  for  somebody  or  something, — 
at  least  to  die  a  little  ! " 

He  was  developing  as  the  maker  of  a  newspaper,  as  a 
political  writer,  and  also  in  the  management  of  men. 
He  admired  Thurlow  Weed's  combination  of  power, —  at 
the  same  time  a  journalist  and  a  mover  of  the  springs  of 
public  affairs  through  personal  intercourse.  He  saw  that 
as  soon  as  an  editor  became  an  office-seeker,  he  compro- 
mised the  independence  on  which  his  real  power  depended. 
Both  Raymond  and  Grreeley  fell  into  this  mistake :  Ben- 
nett and  Weed  avoided  it.  Mr.  Bowles  used  to  say  to 
Dr.  Holland,  "  So  long  as  you  and  I  are  on  this  paper,  we 
will  never  accept  a  public  office."  He  came  to  be  skillful 
in  the  manipulation  of  men,  and  to  be  felt  as  a  personal 


68        THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

as  well  as  a  journalistic  power  in  local  political  circles. 
^'I  fii'st  appreciated  liis  political  ability,"  said  Dr.  Hol- 
land, "  at  a  city  election  of  which  I  cannot  give  the  date. 
He  carried  the  day,  and  used  both  the  paper  and  his 
personal  influence  so  skillfully  that  I  saw  and  said  he 
would  become  a  political  power  in  the  state."  "  I  think," 
added  Dr.  Holland,  "  that  his  strongest  passion  was  the 
love  of  power." 

It  was  during  these  years  that  he  established  the  sys- 
tem of  requiring  advance  payments  from  subscribers. 
A  few  of  the  great  city  papers  had  led  the  way  in  this 
innovation,  but  it  was  so  contrary  to  the  tradition  of 
provincial  journalism  that  many  predicted  utter  discom- 
fiture for  the  rash  experiment.  But  it  succeeded.  It 
was  a  great  step  to  a  firmer  business  footing ;  and  it  was 
also  a  sign  of  the  new  attitude  which  newspapers  were 
taking  in  the  community.  The  old-time  journal  was  very 
deferential  to  its  subscribers  and  advertisers.  It  spoke 
of  them  as  its  "  patrons."  It  was  ready  to  praise  the 
wares  which  they  advertised,  and  to  give  all  manner  of 
friendly  notices  and  puffs.  It  was  patient,  though  some- 
times plaintive,  toward  their  delay  in  making  payment. 
The  possible  message,  "  Stop  my  paper,"  hung  over  the 
editor's  head,  keeping  him  docile  and  respectful.  All  this 
was  swiftly  changing.  The  newspaper,  strengthened  by 
railroad  and  telegraph,  was  becoming  so  strong  that  it 
needed  not  to  ask  favors  or  depend  on  them.  The  Ue- 
puhlican  took  the  lead  among  provincial  papers  in  this 
independent  attitude,  of  which  the  advance-payment  sys- 
tem was  the  commercial  sign.  It  had  never  a  master, 
either  among  the  political  chiefs  or  in  the  classes  with 
whom  its  business  interests  lay.  It  depended  on  their 
support  for  its  existence ;  but  the  editor  won  that  sup- 
port by  making  it  for  their  interest  to  subscribe  for  his 
paper,  and  to  advertise  in  it. 


THE   DEVELOPING   NEWSPAPER.  69 

The  great  achievement  of  Samuel  Bowles  was  that  he 
built  up  uuder  the  limitations  of  a  country  town  a  pay- 
ing newspaper  which  expressed  the  editor's  personal 
opinions,  bound  by  no  party,  by  no  school,  by  no  clique. 
What  began  to  be  talked  of  as  "independent  journalism" 
during  the  G-reeley  campaign,  in  1872,  was,  in  the  Repub- 
lican's case,  only  a  particularly  bold  manifestation  of  a 
character  at  which  it  had  aimed  from  the  beginning.  Its 
editor  was  in  full  sympathy  at  first  with  the  Whig  and 
afterward  with  the  Republican  party;  he  criticised 
them  in  details,  but  on  the  general  issue  his  convictions 
did  not  bring  him  into  fundamental  opposition  until 
1872.  But  from  its  early  years  the  paper  avowed  its 
opinions  and  made  its  criticisms,  with  a  freedom  which 
provoked  frequent  and  often  emphatic  dissent  among 
its  readers.  The  nature  of  its  field  made  this  independ- 
ence hard  to  maintain.  A  great  city  offers  an  immense 
and  various  constituency,  and  a  paper  which  can  make 
itself  readable  to  one  large  class,  can  afford  to  ignore 
even  a  wide  and  weighty  disapprobation  from  other 
classes.  But  the  Republican  was  in  a  small  community; 
it  could  reach,  at  most,  only  a  circle  of  country  towns ; 
the  utmost  number  who  would  take  a  daily  paper  was 
limited ;  and  the  paper  could  ill  afford  to  drive  off  sub- 
scribers, or  incline  them  toward  the  local  rivals  which 
from  time  to  time  disputed  the  ground  with  it.  Besides, 
a  provincial  neighborhood  is  full  of  strong  prejudices. 
It  has  its  heroes  who  must  not  be  lightly  spoken  of,  its 
traditional  code  of  manners  and  morals  which  must  be 
deferred  to.  There  is  still  a  deal  of  very  stiff  stuff  in  the 
descendants  of  the  Puritans,  but  the  community  thirty 
years  ago  was  far  more  provincial,  more  conservative, 
more  set  in  its  preferences  and  prejudices,  than  it  is  to- 
day. The  environment  was  by  no  means  favorable  to 
the  outspoken  independence  which  was  a  growing  trait 


70        THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

of  the  Repiiblican.     The  editor  conquered  his  environ 
ment.     He  did  it  by  making  so  good  a  newspaper  that 
the  people  had  to  buy  it.     By  industry  and  skill  he  won 
the  opportunity  for  independence. 

There  grew  up  in  Mr.  Bowles's  mind  an  ideal  of  "jour- 
nalism,"—  a  combination  of  principles,  methods,  and  in- 
stincts, based  partly  on  ethics,  partly  on  expediency. 
With  him,  to  say  a  thing  was  or  was  not  "good  journal- 
ism "  was  to  put  the  final  seal  upon  its  character.  It 
belonged  to  good  journalism,  in  his  idea,  to  tell  all  the 
news,  and  as  a  part  of  this  to  give  every  side  a  fair  hear- 
ing. His  opponents  and  critics  could  always  find  place 
for  their  articles,  under  reasonable  conditions,  in  his 
paper.  But  it  also  belonged  to  his  ideal  of  journalism 
that  a  paper  should  as  seldom  as  possible  own  itself  in 
the  wrong.  Accordingly,  if  a  man  wrote  to  him  in  cor- 
rection of  a  statement,  or  in  defense  against  criticism,  he 
generally  found  his  letter  printed,  but  with  some  editorial 
comment  that  gave  the  last  word  tellingly  against  him. 
It  was  commonly  said  that  to  seek  redress  from  the 
Repiiblican  did  more  harm  than  good.  This  trait  was 
partly  due  to  deliberate  unwillingness  to  weaken  the 
paper's  authority  by  admission  of  error.  But  it  was 
probably  more  due  to  a  personal  idiosyncracy.  In  many 
ways  a  most  generous  man,  Mr.  Bowles  always  hated  to 
admit  that  he  had  been  in  the  wrong.  Sometimes  he  did 
it, — not  often, — in  private  life;  but  in  his  paper  never, 
when  he  could  help  it.  "  We  sometimes  discussed  this," 
said  Dr.  Holland,  "  and  he  once  said :  *  I  sympathize 
with  the  Boston  editor,  to  whom  a  man  came  with  the 
complaint,  "  Your  paper  says  that  I  hanged  myself,  and  I 
want  you  to  take  it  back."  "  No,"  said  the  editor,  "  we're 
not  in  the  habit  of  doing  that,  but  we  will  say  that  the 
rope  broke  and  you  escaped."  '  " 

But  it  must  be  said  that  this  fault  lies  at  the  door  of 


THE   DEVELOPING   NEWSPAPER.  71 

a  good  many  papers  besides  tlie  Bepuhlican.  It  is  a 
characteristic  sin  of  journalism  —  one  of  the  vices  of 
irresponsible  power.  The  English  press  is  assumed  to  be 
more  fair  and  decorous  than  the  American,  But  Trol- 
lope,  that  faithful  photographer  of  English  manners, 
characterizes  the  Times  upon  this  point.  "  Write  to  the 
Jiqnter,'"  counsels  Bishop  Grantley  to  the  aggrieved  jMr. 
Harding,  who  has  been  misrepresented  by  that  paper. 
"  Yes,"  says  the  more  worldly-wise  Archdeacon,  "  yes, 
and  be  smothered  with  ridicule ;  tossed  over  and  over 
again  with  scorn ;  shaken  this  way  and  that,  as  a  rat  in 
the  mouth  of  a  practised  terrier.  A  man  may  have  the 
best  of  causes,  the  best  of  talents,  and  the  best  of  tem- 
pers ;  he  may  write  as  well  as  Addison  or  as  strongly  as 
Junius ;  but  even  with  all  this,  he  cannot  successfully 
answer  when  attacked  by  the  Jupiter.  Answer  such  an 
article  !  No,  Warden  ;  whatever  you  do,  don't  do  that." 
The  \dtal  principle  of  independent  journalism,  as  Mr. 
Bowles  understood  it,  was  illustrated  by  an  incident 
which  occurred  in  1856.  While  Mr.  Bowles  was  out  of 
town,  a  prize-fight  was  attempted  in  Springfield,  and 
among  those  who  gathered  to  witness  it  were  some  young 
men  of  good  social  standing,  among  them  several  rela- 
tives of  Mrs.  Bowles.  Dr.  Holland  treated  the  incident 
in  a  very  sharp  article,  as  an  instance  of  the  coarse  im- 
moralities in  which  the  rapidly  growing  town  was  begin- 
ning to  imitate  the  worst  features  of  the  great  cities. 
The  article  stated  that  the  matter  would  come  up  in  the 
police  court,  and  those  who  had  been  concerned  in  it 
might  expect  full  publicity  to  be  given  to  their  conduct. 
Before  the  trial,  Mr.  Bowles  returned  to  town.  In  the 
evening,  sitting  on  the  door-step,  his  wife  said  to  him, 
"  Can't  you  let  this  thing  drop  ?  If  you  publish  these 
young  men's  names,  it  will  wound  and  alienate  a  great 
many  of  our  friends."    He  answered,  ''  Mary,  I  have  eon- 


72        THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

sidered  it  all,  most  thoughtfully  and  conscientiously. 
The  blame  must  be  given  where  it  is  deserved.  This  is 
the  time  to  put  an  end  to  prize-fighting  in  Springfield." 
The  trial  was  fully  reported  in  the  Repiiblican,  includ- 
ing the  names  of  those  who  as  attendants  at  the  prize- 
fight were  called  as  witnesses  ;  and  the  paper  commented 
in  a  few  vigorous  words  on  their  presence  at  such  a 
scene.  Family  alienations  did  follow,  painful  and  not 
soon  healed.  But  there  never  was  another  prize-fight  in 
Springfield.  In  this  and  similar  cases,  the  morals  of  the 
town  were  vastly  the  gainer  by  the  unsparing  publicity 
given  to  the  misdeeds  of  men  who  had  reputations  to 
suffer.  Just  as  the  introduction  of  street-lights  into 
cities  did  more  to  stop  nocturnal  crime  than  constables 
and  courts  could  do,  so  by  its  reports  of  wrong-doing  has 
the  modern  newspaper  added  a  new  safeguard  to  social 
morality.  To  exercise  that  great  function  as  free  from 
fear  or  favor  as  the  judge  on  the  bench,  was  the  aim  of 
the  BepuUican.  Its  editor  liked  to  make  his  power  felt, — 
he  liked  to  use  it  for  the  public  good, — but  the  per- 
sonal alienations  which  it  brought  were  none  the  less 
painful  to  him. 


CHAPTER  X. 

The  Compromise  of  1850. 

MR.  BOWLES'S  special  activity  as  a  political  writer 
began  at  just  the  time  when  national  politics  were 
assuming  a  distinctively  new  phase.  Hitherto  upon  the 
questions  connected  with  slavery,  there  had  been  room 
for  constitutional  anti-slavery  men  to  act  effectively 
within  the  Whig  party.  That  party  had  opposed,  though 
unsuccessfully,  the  war  with  Mexico  and  the  spoliation 
of  its  territory  in  the  interest  of  slavery.  But  when  the 
slavery  question  in  new  aspects  thrust  itself  upon  the 
nation,  the  Whigs  fell  back  from  their  anti-slavery 
ground.  They  yielded,  or  evaded,  or  compromised. 
They  planted  themselves  on  the  ground  of  devotion  to 
the  Union,  directly  menaced  by  a  strong  faction  at  the 
South,  and  denounced  by  a  small  number  of  extreme 
Abolitionists  at  the  North.  The  party  was  held  together 
by  this  genuine  Union  sentiment,  by  old  habit  and  asso- 
ciation, and  by  devotion  to  its  personal  leaders.  Between 
it  and  the  Democratic  party  the  differences  in  principle 
and  policy  became  in  reality  of  small  importance.  Both 
organizations  strove  to  keep  in  abeyance  the  dangerous 
question  of  slavery ;  in  each,  the  Southern  wing  repressed 
any  active  anti-slavery  tendency  in  the  Northern  wing. 
At  the  South,  the  disunion  element  made  some  tentative 
efforts  at  organization,  but  found  itself  for  a  time  in  a 

73 


74        THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

hopeless  minority.  At  the  North,  the  Free-soilers  made 
no  gains  except  through  temporary  or  local  coalitions 
with  one  of  the  two  great  parties.  The  extreme  Aboli- 
tionists were  very  active,  through  press  and  platform, 
but  they  were  few,  and  their  denunciatory  temper  won 
for  them  an  extreme  unpopularity ;  their  hand  was 
against  every  man,  and  every  man's  hand  against  them. 
The  sacred  principle  of  liberty  to  the  slave  was  ignored 
by  the  great  parties ;  commercial  interest  sought  to  stifle 
it;  the  sentiment  of  love  to  the  Union  was  arrayed 
against  it;  personal  ambitions,  ecclesiastical  conserva- 
tisms, party  associations, — all  were  hostile  to  it.  It  seemed 
scarcely  to  have  any  friends  except  a  handful  of  heroic 
fanatics.  Yet  in  truth,  there  was  throughout  the  North 
a  wide,  deep  and  growing  sentiment  of  opposition  to 
slavery.  It  found  voice  through  agitators  like  Garri- 
son and  his  associates;  through  poets  like  Lowell  and 
Whittier ;  through  the  mighty  voice  of  Theodore  Parker 
in  the  pulpit,  and  a  few  ministers  in  every  denomination, 
who,  often  at  heavy  cost,  were  true  to  the  prophetic 
function  of  rebuking  national  sin ;  through  Free-soil 
pohticians  and  orators,  and  througli  a  few  Whig  and 
Democratic  leaders  who  were  in  advance  of  the  party 
lines,  but  had  not  yet  broken  them.  The  cause  was 
strong  in  a  multitude  of  men  and  women  who  did  not 
yet  see  their  way  clear  to  action. 

The  slavery  interest  had  urged  the  country  into  war 
with  Mexico,  and  had  gained  Texas  with  the  promise  of 
four  more  slave  states  to  be  carved  out  of  it  in  the 
future ;  and  Mexico  had  been  further  despoiled  of  a  vast 
area  of  territory,  comprising  what  was  afterward  organ- 
ized as  California,  New  Mexico,  and  Utah.  The  question 
which  now  came  to  the  front  was,  should  this  territory 
be  slave,  or  free  ?  It  had  been  free  under  Mexican  law, 
and  its  physical  conditions  were  unfavorable  to  slave 


THE   COMPROMISE   OF    1850.  75 

labor.  As  a  question  merely  of  the  balance  of  power 
between  the  two  sections,  the  North  felt  itself  entitled  to 
some  counterpoise  to  Texas  by  the  admission  of  Califor- 
nia as  a  free  state.  The  people  of  California  adopted  a 
state  constitution  which  prohibited  slavery ;  they  elected 
state  officers  and  Congressmen  —  all  Democrats  —  and 
applied  to  Congress  for  admission.  But  the  Southern 
extremists  objected.  By  the  Compromise  of  1820,  it  had 
been  established  that,  except  the  state  of  Missouri,  all  of 
the  territory  then  acquired  by  the  Louisiana  purchase 
lying  north  of  the  line  of  thirty-six  degrees,  thirty  min- 
utes, north  latitude,  should  be  forever  free  ;  the  status  of 
that  south  of  the  line  was  left  indeterminate.  Now  the 
Southern  extremists  demanded  that  this  same  line  should 
be  extended  across  the  domain  won  from  Mexico  to  the 
Pacific ;  that  in  all  territory  south  of  that,  slavery  should 
be  established,  and  that  California  should  be  divided  by 
that  line ;  its  southern  portion  being  organized  as  a  slave 
state.  A  more  extensive  demand  had  been  made  by 
Calhoun,  who  in  1847  declared  that  slavery  was  entitled 
to  protection  by  Congress,  throughout  the  whole  of  the 
national  territories.  The  South  could  not  yet  be  united 
in  support  of  this  claim,  but  the  mass  of  the  Southern 
politicians  seized  every  practicable  chance  for  a  fresh 
advance  of  slavery  over  new  territory.  The  Free-soilers 
took  the  logical  opposite  of  Calhoun's  position ;  they  de- 
clared, "  Freedom,  not  slavery,  is  national,  and  slavery, 
not  freedom,  is  sectional ;  Congress  has  no  more  power 
to  establish  slavery  than  to  establish  monarchy."  Be- 
tween these  two  positions  stood  the  majority  of  the 
politicians,  not  prepared  for  either  extreme,  seeking  to 
settle  each  case  as  it  arose  by  the  guidance  of  established 
precedent  and  the  special  circumstances  of  the  occasion. 
The  present  occasion  seemed  to  Henry  Clay  to  be  one 
that  called  for  mutual  concessions.    Both  sides  were 


76        THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

bringing  forward  their  grievances.  The  South  was  ex- 
asperated by  the  Abolitionists'  attack,  and  it  complained 
that  there  was  no  adequate  provision  for  the  return  of 
its  escaped  slaves ;  Northern  men  complained  that  on  the 
common  ground  of  the  national  capital  slavery  was  sanc- 
tioned, and  men  and  women  were  sold  at  the  auction 
block.  Clay  had  been  a  promoter  of  the  Missouri  Com- 
promise ;  he  disliked  slavery,  and  in  the  ensuing  debates 
he  declared  with  emphasis  that  he  would  never  give  his 
vote  for  the  express  sanction  of  slavery  on  a  single  foot 
of  territory  that  was  already  free.  But  his  greatest 
anxiety  was,  that  by  mutual  concessions  between  the 
two  sections  the  storm  which  seemed  gathering  and 
menacing  the  national  Union  might  be  dispelled.  In 
the  winter  of  1849-50  he  brought  forward  his  famous 
Compromise  resolutions.  These  provided,  in  substance, 
for  the  admission  of  California  under  the  free  state  con- 
stitution ;  for  the  organization  of  New  Mexico  (including 
what  is  now  Utah)  as  a  territory,  with  no  provision  by 
Congressional  law  for  either  legalizing  or  prohibiting 
slavery;  for  a  national  fugitive  slave  law;  for  the  con- 
tinued maintenance  of  slavery  in  the  District  of  Colum- 
bia, but  the  abolition  there  of  the  slave  trade. 

Over  this  scheme  was  fought  the  great  Compromise  de- 
bate of  1850.  It  was  at  first  assailed  even  more  strongly 
from  the  extreme  South  than  from  the  North.  But  the 
great  incident  of  the  debate  was  Webster's  famous  7th 
of  March  speech.  Before  its  delivery  there  was  confi- 
dent anticipation  that  he  would  take  ground  as  the 
champion  of  the  constitutional  rights  of  freedom.  Mr. 
Ashmun —  as  Mr.  Bowles  has  related  —  shared  that  con- 
fidence, and  he  inspired  the  Eepuhlican  with  it.  That 
paper  took  strong  ground  against  disunion,  and  still 
stronger  against  slavery.  Thus  it  said,  February  22, 
1850 : 


THE   COMPROMISE   OF    1850.  77 

*'  The  will  of  the  majority  of  these  states  is,  that  not  one 
inch  of  territory  now  free  shall  ever  be  trod  by  the  foot  of  a 
slave.  If,  therefore,  the  Union  cannot  be  preserved  without 
introduction  of  the  leaven  of  corruption  in  a  still  greater  pro- 
portion than  now  pervades  it,  we  declare  our  conviction  that 
freedom,  rehgion,  and  honor  demand  that  we  allow  the  tie  of 
Union  to  be  severed  by  those  who  assume  the  teiTible  responsi- 
bility. .  .  .  Let  Northern  men  and  all  the  friends  of  free- 
dom, while  wiUing  to  concede  names  and  forms,  yield  not  an 
inch  of  teiTitory  to  slavery  while  they  have  it  in  theii*  hands." 

Two  weeks  later  Webster  spoke.  He  rose  to  the  full 
height  of  his  intellectual  power.  He  held  the  scales  even 
between  North  and  South,  For  Southern  Disunion,  for 
Northern  Abolitionism,  he  had  equal  rebuke.  His  plea 
was  for  the  faithful  maintenance  of  the  Constitution 
and  the  Union.  When  he  described  the  civil  strife  which 
any  attempt  at  secession  was  sure  to  precipitate,  he 
spoke  with  a  prophet's  foresight  and  a  prophet's  fervor. 
Toward  Mr.  Clay's  Compromise  scheme  he  was  substan- 
tially favorable.  He  declared  himself  ready  to  waive 
the  formal  exclusion  of  slavery  from  the  New  Mexican 
territory,  inasmuch  as  its  soil  and  climate  were  a  virtual 
prohibition  of  slavery,  and  a  legislative  enactment  would 
therefore  be  a  superfluous  reenactment  of  the  natural 
law  of  God,  and  a  needless  affront  to  the  South.  He 
affirmed  the  constitutional  obligation  of  the  North  to 
return  fugitive  slaves.  He  spoke  in  the  spirit  of  com- 
promise ;  he  spoke  with  a  lucid,  massive,  and  at  times 
impassioned  eloquence,  which  even  at  this  distance  of 
time  lays  the  reader  under  its  spell,  and  as  he  reads 
almost  convinces  him, —  iintil  he  looks  up  from  the 
printed  page,  upon  the  field  of  history  and  the  eternal 
lights  of  justice. 

A  single  fault  vitiated  his  whole  treatment  of  the  ques- 
tion.    He  viewed  it  as  a  question  between  two  terri- 


78        THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

torial  sections,  with  their  respective  systems  of  labor, 
both  systems  being  entitled  to  equal  recognition  and 
respect,  and  the  statesman's  problem  being  to  mete  out 
to  each  its  equal  share,  and  thus  keep  the  two  sections 
harmonious  and  united  in  a  common  country.  From 
this  stand-point,  his  plea  was  unanswerable.  The  one 
fact  he  ignored  was  that  the  system  of  slavery  was  a 
profoundly  wrong  and  mischievous  system,  which  it  was 
part  of  the  statesman's  business  to  discourage  and  re- 
press. He  treated  the  question  as  one  between  North 
and  South,  instead  of  between  freedom  and  slavery;  — 
he  made  the  supreme  object  to  be  peace  instead  of  right. 

A  storm  broke  upon  Webster's  head  when  that  speech 
was  read  in  Massachusetts.  The  heart  of  the  state  was 
shaken  with  indignation  and  grief  for  her  favorite  son. 
The  mass  of  his  own  party  supported  him,  but  that  party 
was  at  the  next  election  driven  from  its  long-time  control 
of  the  state.  His  friends  rallied  in  his  defense;  the  magic 
of  that  imperial  presence  and  irresistible  personality  won 
its  triumph ;  the  Whig  party  of  Massachusetts  stood  by 
Webster, —  but  he  had  given  the  political  death-blow  to 
himself  and  to  the  party. 

The  speech  fell  upon  the  BepubUcan  office  as  a  great 
surprise.  While  it  was  reported  only  in  abstracts,  the 
paper  deferred  its  comments,  pleading  meanwhile  for  a 
full  and  fair  hearing  of  the  great  chief.  It  published  the 
speech  in  full,  in  an  extra  sheet,  March  13,  and  made  its 
comment :  "•  We  regard  the  speech  as  a  whole  as  strictly 
Websterian  —  broad,  patriotic,  and  honest.  We  be- 
lieve that  it  will  have  a  good  effect,  not  only  upon  the 
fiery  South  in  soothing  Disunion  agitation,  but  upon  the 
North,  in  impressing  upon  it  its  constitutional  obliga- 
tions. We  are  among  those,  however,  who  wish  it  had 
been  more  than  it  is," — who  wish,  in  short,  that  more  had 
been  said  in  behalf  of  the  North  and  of  freedom.     But 


THE   COMPKOMISE   OF    1850.  79 

then  and  afterward  the  paper  was  steadfast  in  loyalty  to 
Webster.  It  was  always  hearty  in  his  defense,  and  qnali- 
fied  and  mild  in  its  dissent  from  him.  Real  censure  upon 
him  it  never  pronounced.  Through  the  six  months  of 
Congressional  debate  that  followed,  this  personal  loyalty 
to  Webster  was  the  most  salient  feature  of  the  Republi- 
can's politics.  It  did  not,  however,  follow  him  in  sup- 
porting the  Compromise  scheme,  but  neither  did  it 
combat  that  scheme  with  much  warmth  or  \'igor.  At  no 
period  before  or  after  did  it  deal  with  public  questions  so 
ineffectively.  It  maintained,  however,  that  the  admis- 
sion of  California  as  a  free  state  and  without  any 
additional  measures,  was  the  true  course.  This  course 
was  favored  by  President  Taylor,  who  thus  justified  the 
expectations  of  his  anti-slavery  supporters.  But  in  mid- 
summer he  died.  With  his  death  the  controlling  influ- 
ence of  Mr.  Seward  in  the  Administration  disappeared 
wholly,  upon  the  accession  to  the  presidency  of  his  great 
opponent  in  New  York  politics,  Millard  FiUmore.  Mr. 
Webster  became  Secretary  of  State.  His  personality  was 
far  stronger  than  Mr.  Fillmore's,  and  was  felt  with  more 
decisive  weight  in  the  new  Administration.  The  influ- 
ence of  the  Executive  was  now  turned  in  favor  of  the 
Compromise  measures,  which  were  soon  after  adopted. 

That  one  of  them  which  provoked  the  strongest  oppo- 
sition at  the  North  was  the  fugitive  slave  bill.  Driven 
to  acknowledge  the  constitutional  obligation  to  return 
fugitive  slaves,  the  anti-slavery  Whigs  based  their  oppo- 
sition to  this  particular  bill  upon  its  denial  of  a  jury  trial 
to  the  alleged  fugitive.  This  was  the  ground  taken  by 
the  Republican,  which,  on  this  question,  followed  Web- 
ster unreservedly.  When  Webster  brought  in  a  bill  of 
his  own  on  the  subject,  gi^dng  the  alleged  fugitive  the 
right  to  claim  a  jury  trial,  the  Republican  said,  "  We  can 
scarcely  doubt  nine-tenths  of  all  the  people  in  the  free 


80        THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

states  will  approve  of  the  provisions  of  this  bill  when 
they  become  known  to  them."  Webster's  bill  was  thrown 
out,  and  the  law  in  its  most  obnoxious  form  was  passed, 
receiving  only  three  votes  from  Northern  Whigs,  and 
with  Mr.  Winthrop  —  the  successor  and  representative 
of  Mr.  Webster  in  the  Senate — opposing  it.  Thereafter 
Webster  and  the  Whigs,  and  the  Bepublican  with  them, 
treated  it  as  the  law  of  the  land,  entitled  to  loyal  obedi- 
ence. "  That  nasty  word,  Compromise,"  had  been  spoken 
with  effect,  and  the  Bepuhlkan  had  made  but  faint 
opposition.  The  anti-slavery  ground,  which  it  had  main- 
tained until  now  with  such  heartiness  and  vigor,  was 
hereafter,  for  a  time,  scarcely  avowed  except  in  a  per- 
functory way.  The  paper  was  governed  by  loyalty  to  an 
individual  and  a  party,  rather  than  allegiance  to  an  idea. 

Webster's  position  was  not  without  elements  of  strength. 
As  to  the  fugitive  slave  question,  he  stood  on  constitu- 
tional ground.  His  devotion  to  the  Union  was  a  great 
and  worthy  sentiment.  But,  waiving  all  question  of 
ambitious  or  unworthy  motives  on  his  part,  he  was  blind 
to  the  handwriting  on  the  wall,  which  declared  an  irre- 
pressible conflict  between  freedom  and  slavery;  and  he 
was  insensitive  to  the  moral  element,  the  wrong  of  slavery, 
which  underlay  all  constitutions  and  compromises.  In 
supporting  him  through  this  period  the  BepuUican  sub- 
ordinated its  own  best  instincts  and  tendencies. 

Yet  history,  in  its  calm  retrospect,  recognizes  that 
Webster  and  his  followers  were  far  other  than  the  mere 
apostates  to  freedom  which  they  seemed  to  the  men 
possessed  by  the  passion  of  anti-slavery.  Webster  was 
identified  with  a  sublime  idea  —  the  idea  of  American 
nationality.  He  wrought  a  supreme  service  in  the  earlier 
days,  when  in  his  duels  with  Calhoun  he  overmatched 
the  acute  logic  which  claimed  for  each  of  the  states  an 
independent    sovereignty,   by  maintaining  with    equal 


THE   COilPKOMISE   OF    ISoO.  81 

acumen  an  organic  national  unity,  and  evoking  in  its 
defense  a  gt-ander  and  mightier  sentiment.  No  American 
of  the  first  half  of  this  century  did  so  much  to  root  the 
love  of  the  Union  in  the  minds  and  hearts  of  the  people 
as  did  Webster.  It  was  that  love,  more  than  hostility  to 
slavery,  which  animated  the  North  in  the  war  which 
established  the  Union  and  destroyed  slavery.  Webster 
failed  to  measure  the  evil  of  slavery,  and  the  Abolitionists 
failed  no  less  to  measure  the  evil  of  disunion.  Each  of 
them  was  devoted  to  one  great  idea ;  and  the  two  ideas, 
which  conflicted  for  a  while,  were  destined  to  blend  at 
last  into  a  harmonious  and  irresistible  force.  The  high- 
est distinction  of  the  radical  anti-slavery  men  was  that 
they  gave  disinterested  service,  in  which  they  had  gen- 
erally nothing  to  gain  and  much  to  lose ;  while  in  the 
forces  which  opposed  them  patriotism  had  its  allies  in 
the  ambition  of  politicians,  the  timidity  of  churches,  and 
the  selfishness  of  commerce. 


Vol.  I.— 6 


CHAPTER  XI. 

The  Fugitive  Slave  Law. 

THE  Compromise  of  1850,  inasmuch  as  it  did  some- 
how put  an  end  to  the  immediate  open  questions 
regarding  slavery,  was  accepted  by  the  country  with 
singular  unanimity.  Two  years  later,  the  only  party 
which  sought  to  reopen  any  of  its  conclusions  —  the  Free- 
soil —  cast  only  about  156,000  votes  in  a  total  of  over 
3,000,000.  In  this  acceptance,  the  Bepuhlican  was  in 
entire  harmony  with  the  general  drift,  and  with  the 
Whig  party.  Upon  the  adjournment  of  Congress,  it 
said,  October  1,  1850  : 

"  The  measures  which  have  at  last  been  carried  form  a  new 
era  in  our  history.  Time  alone  can  develop  the  beneficence 
and  efiiciency  of  their  operations.  They  have  been  the  best 
that  could  he  carried  to  save  the  Union  from  dangers  which 
threatened  it,  and  satisfied  with  this  we  may  only  hope  they 
will  work  out  the  great  and  happy  results  for  which  they  were 
designed." 

And  it  steadily  advocated  the  observance  of  all  the  pro- 
visions thus  adopted. 

Among  these  provisions  there  was  one  which  brought 
the  subject  of  slavery  home  to  the  keenest  sensibilities  of 
the  Northern  people,  and  forced  upon  them  the  sharpest 
dilemma  between  the  obligations  of  humanity  and  those 


THE  FUGITIVE   SLAVE  LAW.  83 

of  citizenship.  This  was  the  Fugitive  Slave  law.  The 
constitution  expressly  required  the  rendition  from  the 
free  states  of  fugitives  who  had  fled  from  their  masters. 
By  an  early  act  of  Congress,  provision  had  been  made 
for  the  execution  of  this  provision  by  magistrates  in  the 
several  states.  This  law  had  not  been  often  put  in 
operation.  Several  of  the  Northern  states  had  recently 
enacted  statutes  intended  to  obstruct  its  operations. 
There  were  demands  from  the  South  for  more  effective 
measures.  A  bill  for  this  purpose,  by  Mr.  Mason  of  Vir- 
ginia, was  incorporated  in  the  Compromise  scheme,  and 
enacted.  An  efficient  bill  for  this  object  could  not  be 
acceptable  to  the  North.  The  point  for  which  the  Whigs 
contended — that  the  alleged  fugitive  should  be  tried  by 
a  jury — had  its  only  real  importance  in  the  unconfessed 
presumption  that  Northern  juries  would  decide  not  ac- 
cording to  the  facts  but  according  to  their  sympathies, 
and  so  nullify  the  law.  As  adopted,  the  law  gave  the 
decision  on  the  master's  claim  to  a  United  States  com- 
missioner. The  law  went  into  operation.  It  roused 
throughout  the  North  a  wide  excitement  and  exaspera- 
tion. Many  thousands  of  men  and  women  who  had  braved 
hardship  and  peril  in  their  escape  from  bondage  were 
living  in  Northern  towns  and  cities.  They  were  a  peace- 
ful, inoffensive  class,  earning  their  living  by  humble 
labor,  in  kindly  relations  with  their  white  neighbors. 
To  every  one  of  these  the  law  came  as  a  deadly  menace. 
Men  and  women  were  carried  back  to  bondage  from 
Massachusetts;  not  by  secret  kidnappers,  but  in  broad 
day,  with  the  whole  community  looking  on,  with  the 
whole  country  apprised  by  telegraph  of  each  step  in  the 
rendition,  and  under  the  shadow  and  sanction  of  the 
stars  and  stripes. 

To  resist  was  to  break  the  law.     To  organize  resist- 
ance was  to  organize  rebellion.     The  master  was  in  the 


84       THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

exercise  of  his  legal  rights.  The  stipulation  which 
secured  to  him  those  rights  was  one  of  the  mutual  con- 
cessions through  which  was  made  possible  the  great 
American  republic.  If  any  one  may  break  and  resist  a 
law  of  which  he  personally  disapproves,  there  is  an  end 
of  civil  government,  of  social  order,  of  civilization.  So 
argued  one  party. 

Said  others :  ''  Not  all  the  laws  in  the  world  can  jus- 
tify a  direct  violation  of  the  sacred  obligations  of  human- 
ity. Human  law  can  no  more  make  such  an  act  right 
than  it  can  make  theft,  adultery,  murder,  right.  There 
is  a  higher  law  than  that  of  Congress  —  it  is  the  law 
of  God.  We  will  aid  the  fugitive  to  escape,  and  if 
it  comes  to  strife  we  will  side  with  him  rather  than  his 
oppressor." 

When  the  bill  was  under  debate,  a  correspondent, 
"  H.,"  wrote  to  the  Republican  (June  3,  1850)  that  the 
people  of  the  North  ''  will  aid  in  the  recapture  of  the 
fugitive  slaves  when  they  forget  the  Christian  law  and 
become  callous  to  every  human  sentiment  —  not  before. 
The  fate  of  Mason's  bill,  or  any  other  on  this  subject, 
is  of  little  practical  importance.  .  .  .  It  is  much  too 
late  to  think  of  enforcing  a  law  so  repugnant  to  the 
public  conscience.  Practically  and  forever  this  question 
is  settled.  Let  the  slave  escape  beyond  the  slave  states, 
and  the  southern  border  of  the  free  states,  and  he  will  be 
aided  in  his  escape  by  every  one  with  whom  he  meets. 
And  it  will  be  done,  not  only  at  the  spontaneous  prompt- 
ing of  sympathy,  but  as  a  sacred  duty.  No  more  false 
pledges  should  be  given  to  the  slave-holders.  It  is  better 
to  teU  them  honestly :  '  It  is  so  writ  in  the  bond,'  but  it 
is  morally  impossible ;  we  cannot  and  will  not  do  it ! 
If  your  human  cattle  escape,  we  bid  them  God-speed  in 
the  race  for  liberty,  and  we  cannot  do  otherwise  as  long 
as  we  are  men." 


THE   FUGITIVE    SLAVE   LAW.  85 

Against  this  plea,  the  MepubUcan  argued  at  length  that 
civil  government  and  social  order  depend  on  obedience 
to  the  law,  "  The  Constitution  does  not  require  us  to  be 
slave-catchers,  nor  to  withhold  our  God-speed  to  a  fugi- 
tive. Our  sympathies  are  all  with  him,  and  they  always 
will  be  with  him.  Our  simple  duty  is,  when  ownership 
is  proved  to  us  through  regularly  appointed  officers,  to 
offer  no  resistance  to  his  reclamation.  If  we  do,  our 
Constitution  is  as  worthless  a  piece  of  parchment  as  a 
Mississippi  bond." 

Through  all  the  exciting  discussions  and  events  which 
followed  the  passage  of  the  law,  the  Repiiblican  main- 
tained this  ground.  It  earnestly  opposed  the  "  higher 
law "  idea  as  subversive  of  all  civil  government.  It  de- 
clared (March  31,  1851)  that  the  only  legitimate  resource, 
where  the  law  requires  from  the  individual  the  active 
performance  of  what  he  thinks  wrong,  is  to  decline  to 
obey,  and  accept  the  penalty.  "All  sober  men,  and  all 
good  members  of  society,  agree  that  the  laws  of  society 
must  he  either  actively  or  passively  obeyed ;  that  the  be- 
hests of  society,  uttered  through  its  recognized  channels 
of  authority,  are  to  be  wrought  out  by  the  individual  or 
suffered  in  the  penalty  attached  to  them."  Under  the 
caption  "  Under  which  King  ?"  (March  21, 1851),  it  pressed 
the  alternative  — obedience  to  the  law,  or  disunion  and 
anarchy.  "  We  put  it  to  every  man  in  the  community 
who  has  cheated  himself,  or  been  cheated,  into  the  belief 
that  it  is  right  for  him  to  resist  the  execution  of  any  of 
the  laws  of  the  land,  whether  he  is  willing  to  assume  the 
political  position  of  Garrison,  and  thus  preserve  his  con- 
sistency, and  stand  where  he  can  alone  defend  himself. 
Will  you  be  a  friend  or  an  enemy  to  the  Government  ? 
WiU  you  be  a  citizen  or  an  alien  ?  Will  you  be  a  sub- 
ject, or,  in  aU  essential  signification  of  the  word,  an 
outlaw  ? " 


86        THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF    SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

These  tliings  were  not  said  by  way  of  abstract  specu- 
lation. A  few  weeks  before,  a  colored  man,  Shadrach, 
had  been  arrested  in  Boston  as  a  fugitive,  and  a  mob 
had  carried  him  from  the  court-room  into  safety  and 
freedom.  A  little  later,  in  the  same  city,  Thomas  Simms 
was  arrested,  and  by  the  United  States  Commissioner 
was  remanded  as  a  slave.  The  state  Supreme  Court  was 
vainly  appealed  to  in  his  behalf.  The  city  authorities 
cooperated  with  the  Federal  officials  to  guard  him  from 
rescue.  He  was  marched  through  the  streets  surrounded 
by  three  hundred  armed  policemen,  with  a  body  of  militia 
held  in  reserve  in  Faneuil  Hall,  was  placed  on  shipboard, 
and  returned  to  his  master.  This  was  the  BejmbUcan's 
comment  the  day  after  (April  14,  1851) : 

"  It  is  a  relief  to  know  that  this  painful  affau*  has  ended,  and 
a  source  of  gratification  that  the  laws  of  the  nation,  so  boldly 
threatened  in  the  spirit  of  mobocratic  resistance,  have  been 
sustaiaed.  Yet  this  rehef  and  this  gratification,  as  they  must 
be  to  every  peaceable  and  law-loving  and  law-abiding  heart, 
are  dimmed  by  the  sense  of  individual  and  social  wi'ong,  which 
is  thus  brought  directly  home  to  us  as  the  result  of  slavery  in 
our  country  and  our  constitution.  It  is  a  deep  and  bitter  evO, 
an  anomaly  in  our  Republic,  giving  the  he  to  every  line  of  our 
profession  as  a  people  and  a  nation,  and  yet  a  fijxed  fact,  that 
must  be  met  and  treated  in  a  broad  and  cathoUc  spmt,  and  not 
with  the  cowardice  of  fanaticism,  which  would  pull  down  the 
whole  fabric  because  it  has  one  gi*oss  imperfection  in  its  fi-ame. 
We  find  no  immixed  good  anywhere, — not  even  at  the  hearth- 
stone of  home, — and  yet  we  do  not  propose  therefore  to  destroy 
our  famUy  firesides  and  put  asunder  what  God  has  joined 
together." 

At  this  period  there  were  two  forms  of  occasional  dis- 
turbance of  the  peace.  Resistance  to  the  return  of  fugi- 
tives was  not  very  frequent,  because  these  renditions 
were  not  often  attempted,  so  strong  was  the  popular 


THE   FUGITIVE   SLAVE   LAW.  87 

antipathy  to  them,  while  the  public  authority  was  yet 
generally  formidable  enough  to  forbid  any  active  resist- 
ance. The  other  class  of  disorders  was  much  more 
frequent,  consisting  in  riotous  demonstrations  against 
Abolitionist  speakers.  The  Abolitionists  —  Garrison, 
Phillips,  and  their  associates  —  stood  in  aggressive  op- 
position to  the  strongest  current  of  the  time.  When  the 
mass  of  the  politicians  and  the  people  were  declaring 
that  the  slavery  question  was  settled  by  the  Compromise, 
the  Abolitionists  with  fresh  energy  declared  it  to  be  a 
delusive  and  wicked  peace.  While  the  mass  of  the 
Northern  people  felt  themselves  to  have  made  some 
sacrifice  of  feeling  for  the  sake  of  strengthening  the 
Union,  Garrison  and  his  followers  assailed  the  Union 
itself  as  cemented  in  crime  and  deserving  immediate 
overthrow.  They  were  held  in  detestation  by  most  of 
the  conservative  and  respectable  elements  of  society, 
and  those  elements  did  not  always  care  to  check  the 
outbreak  of  popular  \dolence  from  the  lower  class  against 
the  agitators. 

In  February,  1851,  it  was  announced  that  George 
Thompson,  doubly  obnoxious  as  an  Abolitionist  and  an 
Englishman  who  had  come  over  to  attack  American 
institutions,  would  speak  at  a  public  meeting  in  Spring- 
field. The  meeting  was  appointed  for  Monday  the  17th. 
It  was  loudly  threatened  that  Thompson  would  not  be 
allowed  to  appear,  A  committee  of  prominent  citizens 
was  appointed  to  warn  him  that  the  town  was  in  an 
excited  and  dangerous  condition.  Sunday  morning,  an 
efBgy  of  Thompson,  and  another  labeled  "John  Bull," 
were  found  hanging  in  the  principal  square  of  the  town. 
A  handbill  was  widely  circulated,  headed  "  Regulators, 
Attention,"  making  a  \dolent  appeal  against  the  "paid 
emissary  and  spy  of  England."  It  was  an  undisguised 
summons  to  mob  Thompson  if  he  attempted  to  speak. 


80        THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

The  Bepublican  of  Monday  morning  reported  the  facts 
of  the  situation,  and  said,  "  If  Mr.  Thompson  attempts 
to  fulfill  his  engagement,  there  will  be  a  very  serious  dis- 
turbance. "We  should  deeply  regret  such  an  occurrence, 
because  it  would  be  subversive  of  those  principles  of  law 
and  order  that  are  at  once  the  foundation  and  the  safe- 
guard of  a  republican  government ;  because  a  gross 
violation  of  the  free  speech  of  which  we  boast  as  one  of 
the  greatest  liberties  guaranteed  by  our  constitution ; 
because  disgraceful  to  our  town  and  country;  and  be- 
cause it  would  tend  greatly  to  assist  Mr.  Thompson  and 
his  American  associates  in  their  crusade  against  our 
constitution  and  our  government."  In  another  column  it 
said  that  Mr.  Thompson,  accompanied  by  Garrison  and 
Phillips,  was  to  speak  in  the  evening,  "for  the  purpose, 
we  presume,  of  denouncing  the  American  constitution, 
libeling  the  Christian  church,  and  abusing  the  greatest 
and  best  men,  living  and  dead,  that  have  ever  impressed 
their  names  on  the  country's  history.  We  allude  to  this 
meeting  more  in  sorrow  than  in  any  stronger  or  harsher 
sentiment,  for  we  presume  it  will  be  made,  like  its  long 
line  of  predecessors  in  this  and  other  towns,  the  scene  of 
pitiful  fanaticism,  blind  perversion  of  truth,  and  such 
handling  of  sacred  things  as  shaU  wound  the  moral  sense 
like  the  naked  blow  of  blasphemy."  It  advised  citizens 
to  stay  away  from  the  meeting,  and  thus  consign  it  to 
insignificance  and  obscurity.  The  selectmen  of  the  town 
appointed  a  few  special  constables,  and  notified  the  pro- 
prietors of  the  hall  that  the  town  would  not  be  responsi- 
ble for  any  damages  ;  whereupon  the  proprietors  refused 
the  use  of  the  hall,  and  there  was  no  meeting  that  day. 
In  the  evening  a  riotous  crowd  thronged  the  streets,  with 
bonfires,  drums,  fifes,  bells,  and  crackers.  "  Rowdyism  was 
in  the  highest  degree  rampant,"  said  the  Bepublican  next 
morning;  and  it  rebuked  especially  the  intelligent  and 


THE   FUGITIVE   SLAVE   LAW.  89 

respectable  men  whose  latent  support  emboldened  the 
mob.  It  thus  enforced  the  moral :  "  In  the  Faneuil  Hall 
reception  of  Mr.  Thompson,  in  the  treatment  he  has 
received  here,  and  in  the  recent  fugitive  slave  mob  in 
Boston  "  (the  rescue  of  Shadrach),  '^  there  is  a  trampling 
upon  great  principles  that  shows  '  something  rotten  in 
the  state  of  Denmark.'  We  fully  understand  the  motives 
which  were  the  mainspring  of  each  of  these  proceedings ; 
we  fully  appreciate  the  strength  and  abstract  rightfulness 
of  the  feelings  that  prompted  the  actors  therein  ;  but  we 
mourn  in  bitterness  the  terrible  lack  of  judgment  and 
forecast  that  those  professing  to  be  and  holding  the  places 
of  leading  men  in  society,  display  in  countenancing  such 
violation  of  the  first  principles  of  our  government." 

That  day  a  room  was  obtained  by  Mr.  Thompson  and 
his  friends,  in  which  they  held  meetings  in  the  forenoon 
and  afternoon.  The  attendance  was  small,  there  was  no 
disturbance,  and  the  speakers  were  very  severe  upon 
the  mob,  the  city  authorities,  and  the  Republican.  Mr. 
Thompson  charged  that  the  inflammatory  handbill  was 
printed  at  the  Bepublican  ofi&ce,  and  that  the  paper  had 
incited  the  mob.  Mr.  Bowles  addressed  a  note  to  Mr. 
Thompson  denying  and  demanding  proof  of  these  state- 
ments, and  Thompson  replied  by  sharp  denunciations. 
In  the  evening  it  was  considered  unsafe  to  hold  a  meet- 
ing. Again  there  were  riotous  demonstrations,  and  Mr. 
Thompson  was  burned  in  effigy  in  front  of  his  room  at 
the  hotel.  There  was  no  overt  violence,  and  no  arrests 
were  made.  The  Republican  the  next  morning  made 
these  occurrences  the  text  of  a  long  editorial  on  the 
"  Higher  Law,"  an  idea  of  which  it  declared  the  mob  to 
be  a  logical  and  practical  outcome.  It  recalled  the  fact 
that  when,  a  little  while  before,  Marshal  D evens  visited 
the  town,  for  the  purpose,  as  was  at  first  believed,  of 
arresting  some  fugitive  slaves,  there  had  been  free  talk 


90        THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

of  resisting  him  by  violence ;  and  this  manifestation,  it 
declared,  was  a  precedent  and  parallel  of  the  demonstra- 
tions against  Thompson ;  both  were  outcroppings  of  the 
same  lawless  spirit.  The  whole  stress  of  this  article  was 
directed  not  against  the  mob  that  forbade  Thompson  to 
speak  and  hanged  and  burned  him  in  effigy,  nor  against 
the  respectable  classes  that  had  encouraged  and  tolerated 
this  violence,  but  against  those  who  had  declared  that 
they  would  disobey  or  resist  the  law  for  the  return  of 
fugitives.  Mr.  Thompson's  charges  against  the  Bejmb- 
lican  were  met  by  denials  and  rebuke,  and  there  followed 
a  long  and  bitter  controversy  between  him  and  the 
paper.  For  several  weeks  the  disturbance  was  a  leading 
topic  in  its  columns ;  and  upon  this  and  similar  occur- 
rences the  same  tone  was  maintained,  of  condemnation 
equally  severe  theoretically  of  those  who  mobbed  Aboli- 
tionist speakers  and  those  who  rescued  fugitives  from 
their  captors ;  but  with  the  sharpest  stress  of  rebuke 
against  the  latter. 

Meantime  the  politics  of  the  state  had  taken  a  singular 
course.  The  Free-soilers  remained  throughout  the  coun- 
try generally  in  a  minority,  whose  small  number  is 
remarkable  when  we  consider  that  their  principles  were 
equally  anti-slavery  and  constitutional,  and  that  their 
leaders  included  such  men  as  C.  F.  Adams,  Sumner,  Wil- 
son, Palfrey,  John  P.  Hale,  Giddings,  Chase,  and  others 
of  like  quality.  The  party  was  very  small,  but  in  some 
states  it  held  the  balance  of  power  between  the  two  great 
parties,  and  by  a  temporary  alliance  with  one  of  them 
could  win  some  important  position.  In  Massachusetts, 
Webster's  defection  from  the  anti-slavery  cause,  in  which 
the  Whig  party  as  a  body  followed  him,  offered  a  chance 
of  success  to  the  opponents  of  that  party,  if  they  could 
unite  their  forces.  Hitherto  the  Democrats  had  been 
less  friendly  than  the  Whigs  to  Free-soil  principles.    In 


THE   FUGITIVE   SLAVE   LAW.  91 

several  Congressioual  districts,  at  the  election  of  1850, 
the  Free-soilers  and  a  part  of  the  Whigs  united  upon  a 
candidate.  Horace  Mann,  who  had  represented  the  old 
district  of  John  Quiney  Adams  as  an  anti-slavery  Whig, 
lost  the  party  renomination  by  his  opposition  to  Webster 
after  the  7th  of  March ;  he  was  nominated  by  the  Free- 
soilers  led  by  C.  F.  Adams,  and  was  elected.  There  were 
some  other  similar  cases.  But  a  different  plan  of  coali- 
tion was  proposed  for  the  legislature.  Each  of  the  three 
parties  had  its  own  candidates  before  the  people  for 
governor  and  state  officers,  but  it  became  clear  that 
neither  would  have  a  majority,  and  in  that  case  the 
choice  would  devolve  on  the  legislature.  That  body  was 
also  to  elect  two  United  States  senators,  one  for  an  un- 
expired term  of  a  few  weeks,  the  other  for  a  full  term 
of  six  years.  It  was  proposed  that  in  the  legislature  the 
Free-soilers  should  join  forces  with  the  Democrats,  to 
give  the  state  offices  to  the  latter  and  the  long-term 
senatorship  to  a  Free-soiler.  This  arrangement  was 
opposed  by  some  of  the  Free-soil  leaders,  including 
Adams,  Palfrey,  and  Whittier,  but  most  of  their  number, 
including  Henry  Wilson  and  F.  W.  Bird,  favored  the 
agreement,  and  an  understanding  was  openly  established 
with  the  Democrats. 

Such  a  combination,  in  which  the  two  parties  are  not 
united  by  a  common  principle  for  which  each  makes  some 
sacrifice,  but  by  a  direct  exchange  of  votes,  one  set  of 
offices  being  given  to  men  of  one  political  creed,  and 
another  set  to  men  of  another  creed,  is  sure  to  arouse 
severe  criticism.  The  two  parties  to  it  will  always  be 
charged  with  trading  their  principles  for  office  and  power. 
The  Massachusetts  Whigs,  no  longer  able  to  appeal  to 
anti-slavery  sentiment,  assailed  with  effect  the  incon- 
gruity of  the  coalition  against  them.  The  BepuUican 
was  the  enthusiastic  champion  of  the  Whig  party.     It 


92        THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

attacked  the  Democrats  as  insincere,  and  told  the  Free- 
soilers  they  were  being  made  a  cat's-paw,  and  would 
never  get  their  promised  reward.  The  enthusiasm  of  a 
party  name  and  history ;  the  claim  of  consistency  and 
sincerity,  opposed  to  a  hybrid  coalition  for  the  spoils  of 
oifice  ;  the  allegiance  to  a  great  party  chief, — these  senti- 
ments gave  ardor  to  the  politics  of  the  Repuhlican.  It 
was  whole-hearted  in  its  devotion  to  the  "Whig  party  — 
Whig  cause  cannot  be  said,  for  in  truth  the  party  stood 
no  longer  for  living  ideas.  It  was  rich  in  memories,  but 
bankrupt  in  great  principles,  save  that  of  devotion  to  the 
Union,  and  even  as  to  that  it  had  at  the  North  little  dis- 
tinction above  its  chief  opponent,  the  Democracy.  As 
had  been  foreseen,  no  one  of  their  state  tickets  secured  a 
majority  in  the  popular  vote.  The  election  devolved  on 
the  legislature.  The  coalition  was  then  made  definite 
and  binding.  A  Democrat,  George  Boutwell,  was  chosen 
Governor,  with  Democratic  associates  in  the  state  offices, 
except  a  few  minor  places  given  by  compact  to  the  Free- 
soilers.  To  the  fragment  of  a  senatorial  term  Robert 
Rantoul  was  elected  as  a  Democrat.  For  the  long  term,  the 
Whig  candidate  was  Robert  C.  Winthrop,  and  the  coali- 
tion supported  Charles  Sumner.  After  a  contest  of  some 
months, —  a  minority  of  the  Democrats  obstinately  refus- 
ing to  support  Mr.  Sumner, —  the  necessary  votes  were 
gained  to  elect  him.  The  Republican  fought  the  coalition 
with  vigor,  but  with  no  such  bitterness  as  it  expressed 
toward  the  disunion  Abolitionists.  It  treated  most  of 
the  coalition  leaders  with  personal  respect,  spoke  well  of 
Governor  BoutweU,  and  when  at  last  Mr.  Sumner  was 
elected  to  the  Senate,  said  of  him  (May  2,  1851)  that  he 
was  a  man  of  brilliant  parts,  a  theorizer,  and  an  honest 
humanitarian,  with  no  experience  in  legislation,  with  no 
proved  claims  as  a  debater  or  statesman,  and  with  his 
future  in  his  own  hands. 


•      THE   FUGITIVE   SLAVE   LAW.  93 

By  a  strange  transposition,  the  Democratic  party  in 
Massachusetts  had  become  for  the  time  more  friendly  to 
freedom  than  the  Whig.  In  the  Democratic  convention 
of  this  year,  1851,  there  was  a  great  deal  of  strong  anti- 
slavery  talk.  But  in  the  Whig  convention  held  in 
Springfield,  September  11,  there  was  not  one  voice  in 
rebuke  of  slavery  aggression.  The  Compromise,  the 
Union,  and  Webster,  were  the  unanimous  cry.  The 
resolutions  in  one  paragraph  declare:  ''The  Whigs  of 
Massachusetts  will  faithfully  perform  every  duty  im- 
posed upon  them  by  the  Constitution  of  the  United 
States,  and  they  call  upon  their  brethren  in  every  state 
in  the  Union  to  respect  and  observe  all  its  constitutional 
provisions."  The  only  "  duty  imposed  by  the  Constitu- 
tion "  as  to  which  there  was  the  least  question  in  the 
public  mind,  was  the  return  of  fugitive  slaves.  To  this 
the  resolution  evidently  pointed,  and  to  enforce  this 
duty  was  the  chief  burden  of  the  address  to  the  people 
issued  by  the  convention.  No  wonder  that  Palfrey  said, 
when  in  the  following  week  he  allied  himself  with  the 
Free-soil  party  at  its  convention,  that  the  Whig  resolu- 
tions and  addresses  had  sent  him  there :  "  No  man 
could  read  those  resolutions  without  being  struck  down 
by  conviction  as  St.  Paul  was."  At  the  Springfield 
convention  the  Webster  influence  dominated  everything. 
Winthrop  was  nominated  for  governor,  and  Ashmun, 
Everett,  and  Seth  Sprague  were  appointed  delegates  to 
the  national  convention  of  the  following  year. 

The  Republican  was  enthusiastic  over  the  harmony 
and  success  of  the  state  convention.  It  cheered  on  the 
Whigs  through  the  ensuing  campaign,  throwing  its 
weight  mainly  upon  state  issues,  in  which  the  coalition 
had  by  no  means  made  a  brilliant  success.  It  also  had 
something  to  say  for  a  high  tariff.  The  coalitionists 
gave  prominence  rather  to  national  than  state  issues. 


94        THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

They  again  carried  the  legislature,  though  by  a  reduced 
and  narrow  majority,  and  with  it  the  state  ofifices.  For 
governor,  the  popular  vote  was,  in  round  numbers: 
Winthrop,  65,000;  Boutwell,  44,000;  Palfrey,  28,000,— a 
fair  measure  of  the  relative  strength  of  parties. 

The  national  conventions  of  1852  were  held,  and  the 
nominations  made.  The  Democratic  platform  declared 
that  the  Compromise  of  1850  must  be  accepted  as  the 
end  of  the  controversy  upon  slavery.  In  the  Whig  con- 
vention, Ashmun  was  chairman  of  the  committee  on 
resolutions.  The  Southern  delegates  to  the  convention 
agreed  in  advance  upon  a  resolution  on  which  they 
would  insist,  and  this  resolution  in  substance  was 
adopted  by  the  committee  and  the  convention.  It  de- 
clared that  the  compromise  measures,  including  the 
Fugitive  Slave  law,  were  accepted  and  acquiesced  in  by 
the  Whig  party,  "  as  a  final  settlement  in  principle  and 
substance  of  the  dangerous  and  exciting  questions  which 
they  embrace,"  and  that  all  further  agitation  of  such 
questions  should  be  discountenanced.  This  platform 
was  adopted  by  227  votes  to  66,  For  the  presidential 
nomination  the  rivals  were  Mr.  Fillmore,  Mr,  Webster, 
and  General  Scott,  The  latter  was  supported  by  the 
anti-slavery  Whigs, —  for  little  apparent  reason  save  that 
he  was  not  as  objectionable  as  his  competitors, — but  was 
chiefly  prominent  from  his  military  prestige.  Webster 
had  little  support  save  from  Massachusetts,  whose  dele- 
gation stood  by  him,  with  the  exception  of  Henry  L. 
Dawes,  who  voted  for  Scott,  The  real  contest  was  be- 
tween Scott  and  Fillmore,  and  at  last  Scott  was  nomi- 
nated. He  cordially  accepted  the  platform,  and  thereby 
took  away  all  enthusiasm  from  the  anti-slavery  element 
of  the  party,  while  such  Southerners  as  Stephens  and 
Toombs  of  Georgia  refused  to  support  him  because  the 
anti-slavery  wing  had  favored  him.     The  Democrats  had 


THE   FUGITIVE   SLAVE   LAW.  95 

in  Franklin  Pierce  an  obscui-e  candidate,  but  they  were 
more  harmonious  than  the  Whigs.  They  had  re-absorbed 
the  New  York  seceders  to  Free-soilism  in  1848,  and  they 
were  more  trusted  than  the  Whigs  by  the  South.  The 
Free-soilers  nominated  John  P.  Hale.  Their  platform 
re-affirmed  that  freedom  must  be  regarded  as  national 
and  slavery  sectional ;  pronounced  slavery  a  sin  against 
Grod  and  a  crime  against  man ;  denounced  the  Fugitive 
Slave  law,  and  declared  that  no  human  law  can  be  a 
finality ;  and  gave  the  watchword  of  "  Free  soil,  free 
speech,  free  labor,  free  men ! "  This  became  the  rallying 
cry  of  the  Republican  party  only  four  years  later ;  and 
the  principles  thus  announced  closely  resembled  those 
applied  by  the  Republican  party  to  somewhat  altered 
circumstances,  save  that  the  latter  never  made  an  issue 
of  the  Fugitive  Slave  law,  and  was  much  more  explicit 
and  careful  in  affirming  the  local  rights  of  slavery  than 
the  Free-soilers  ever  troubled  themselves  to  be.  But 
the  latter  party  never  had  much  popular  strength,  and 
now,  deprived  of  its  Democratic  allies  of  four  years 
earlier,  its  vote  fell  off  from  that  of  1848  by  100,000, 
and  reached  only  156,000.  The  Democrats  swept  the 
country,  carrpng  all  but  four  states  (Massachusetts, 
Vermont,  Kentucky,  and  Tennessee),  though  with  a 
popular  vote  only  a  very  little  larger  than  their  two 
opponents  combined. 

The  Republican's  tone  through  this  campaign  of  1852 
was  unreservedly  and  heartily  Whig.  The  first  stage  of 
its  political  history  ends  here.  In  comparison  with  Mr. 
Bowles's  course  in  later  years,  it  is  noticeable  how  thor- 
oughly during  this  period  he  was  swayed  by  the  alle- 
giance and  enthusiasm  of  a  party,  when  that  party  had 
no  longer  any  distinctive  principles  or  any  inspiring 
idea.  The  ardor  of  the  Bepublican  for  the  Whig  party 
in  these  years  was  in  reality,  if  analyzed,  an  ardor  partly 


96        THE    LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

for  individuals, — Webster,  the  great  light  of  the  system, 
and  Everett,  Choate,  Ashmun,  Winthrop,  and  the  rest, 
revolving  around  him, — partly  for  a  name,  a  tradition, 
an  association,  which  had  imperceptibly  become  emptied 
of  any  solid  idea  or  vital  principle.  This  enthusiasm 
for  a  party  name  and  associations,  in  distinction  from 
an  intelligent  attachment  to  ideas  and  principles,  domi- 
nated Mr.  Bowles  in  these  earlier  years ;  in  later  years 
it  was  against  just  such  unreasoning  partisanship  that 
he  was  to  do  effective  service.  As  a  young  man  he  had 
not  yet  broken  away  from  the  materializing  influences 
which  prevailed  in  the  community  about  him.  That 
ardor  of  intellectual  and  moral  progress  which  burned 
on  the  Massachusetts  coast  had  scarcely  kindled  in  the 
valley  of  the  Connecticut.  The  great  men  of  the  region, 
the  "  river-gods,"  were  very  far  from  moral  enthusiasts. 
The  "  respectable "  sentiment  of  the  town  was  stronger 
against  George  Thompson  than  against  the  men  who 
mobbed  him.  When  on  that  occasion  the  pastor  of  the 
Unitarian  church,  Rev.  George  Simmons,  spoke  manfully 
for  the  rights  of  free  speech,  it  cost  him  his  dismissal 
from  the  parish.  He  was  on  a  sick-bed  when  the  church 
meeting  was  held,  and  his  physician  warned  those  pres- 
ent that  any  hostile  action  on  their  part  at  that  time 
might  endanger  his  life,  but  in  the  face  of  this  warning 
they  passed  a  vote  of  dismissal.  Mr.  Bowles  started  on 
a  level  with  his  environment.  The  sensitiveness  to  the 
moral  element  in  politics,  the  insight  into  the  real  mean- 
ing and  drift  of  things,  were  to  be  developed  in  him  later. 


CHAPTER  XIL 

The  Journalist  at  Work  :  His  Lieutenants. 

THE  course  of  the  ReiniMican  upon  great  public 
questions  can  be  briefly  recorded,  but  it  is  im- 
possible to  record,  almost  impossible  to  suggest,  the 
history  of  the  paper  itself,  as  a  daily  chronicle  of  news 
and  opinion.  As  one  turns  the  })ages  of  its  old  files,  at  a 
distance  of  many  years,  there  is  in  them  a  vigor  and 
sparkle  which  fascinate.  Read  now,  it  is  history  in  its 
most  vivid  and  stirring  form.  Read  then,  as  the  sheets 
yet  damp  from  the  press  were  caught  up  and  eagerly 
scanned  by  thousands  of  eyes,  it  was  history  in  the  very 
making.  These  bird's-eye  glimpses  of  the  world's  life 
for  a  day,  these  stories  of  myriad  activities  of  good  and 
evil,  these  quick  suggestive  paragraphs,  stamped  an 
influence  on  the  mind  and  character  of  the  people  who 
read  them.  The  newspaper  was  a  factor  in  the  lives  of 
the  individual  and  the  community  more  potent  than 
they  knew. 

The  especial  genius  of  the  Bepuhlican  and  its  editor 
lay  in  giving  the  news.  Said  the  prospectus  of  Decem- 
ber 23,  1851 : 

''  We  aim  first  of  all  to  make  a  live  newspaper, — to  give 
everything  in   this  region  that  people  want,   briefly,  intelli- 
gently, succinctly  stated — to  weed  out  the  verbiage  and  present 
the  kernel.     .     .     .    After  news, — which  is  the  gi-eat  distinc- 
VOL.   I.— 7  97 


98        THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

tive  object  of  the  Republican,  and  to  wMch  all  other  things  must 
bend, —  we  aim  to  discuss  pohtics,  morals,  religion,  physics, — 
everything  in  fact  which  editors  may  discuss  nowadays, —  as 
honestly,  fairly,  frankly,  and  iatelhgently  as  our  abihties, 
knowledge,  and  time  will  admit." 

The  decade  in  which  the  telegraph  came  into  use  was 
the  swift  and  wonderful  adolescence  of  the  news-gather- 
ing function  of  journalism.  The  Eepuhlican  had  its  first 
telegraphic  dispatches  in  the  latter  part  of  1846.  An 
editorial  on  '^  The  Newspaper,"  January  4,  1851,  shows 
how  the  incoming  order  of  things  impressed  the  men 
through  whom  it  was  wrought  out.  The  very  style  of 
the  article  illustrates  the  habit  of  thought  and  expression 
which  the  rush  of  news,  and  the  swift  energy  it  exacted, 
created  in  the  editor,  when  he  was  a  man  of  power  and 
sensitiveness. 

"  Nothing  can  be  more  evident  to  the  pubhc,  and  nothing 
certainly  is  more  evident  to  pubUshers  of  newspapers,  than 
that  there  is  a  great  deal  more  news  nowadays  than  there  used 
to  be.  .  .  .  Publishers  of  country  weekhes  used  to  fish  with 
considerable  anxiety  in  a  shaUow  sea,  for  matter  sufficient  to 
fill  their  sheets,  whUe  daihes  only  dreamed  of  an  existence  in 
the  larger  cities.  .  .  .  Now  all  is  changed.  The  increase 
of  facihties  for  the  transmission  of  news  brought  in  a  new  era. 
The  railroad  car,  the  steamboat,  and  the  magnetic  telegraph 
have  made  neighborhood  among  widely  dissevered  states,  and 
the  Eastern  Continent  is  but  a  few  days'  journey  away.  These 
active  and  almost  miraculous  agencies  have  brought  the  whole 
civilized  world  in  contact.  The  editor  sits  in  his  sanctum,  and 
his  obedient  messengers  are  the  lightning  and  the  fire.  He 
knows  a  fire  has  raged  in  London  before  the  wind  could  waft 
its  smoke  to  him;  the  hghtning  tells  him  of  an  explosion  in 
New  Orleans  before  they  have  counted  the  dead  and  wounded  ; 
the  debates  of  Congress  are  in  his  hands,  though  hundreds  and 
thousands  of  miles  from  the  Capitol,  before  the  members  who 
participated  in  them  have   eaten  their  dinner ;  a  speech  is 


THE  JOURNALIST  AT  WORK  :    HIS  LIEUTENANTS.    99 

under  his  eyes  before  the  hurrahs  it  awakened  have  died  away ; 
and  there  he  sits  day  after  day,  as  if  he  were  the  center  of  the 
world,  to  whom  all  men  and  things  are  accountalile,  and  all 
actions  returnable.  These  events  are  chronicled  and  explained, 
and  then  they  are  given  to  his  messengers,  the  rushing  engines, 
which  carry  them  to  thousands  of  greedy  eyes,  waiting  to  see, 
in  one  brief  transcript,  the  record  of  the  world's  great  struggle 
the  previous  day.  .  .  .  The  appetite  for  news  is  one  of  those 
appetites  that  grows  by  what  it  feeds  on.  .  .  .  The  mind 
accustomed  to  the  gossip  of  nations  cannot  content  itself  with 
the  gossip  of  families.  .  .  .  The  tendency  of  this  new  state 
of  things  has  as  yet  hardly  claimed  a  moment's  consideration 
from  the  moralist  and  the  philosopher.  Nations  and  individuals 
now  stand  immediately  responsible  to  the  world's  opinion,  and 
the  world,  interesting  itself  in  the  grand  events  ti'anspu*iiig  in 
its  various  parts,  and  among  its  various  parties,  has  become, 
and  is  still  becoming,  hberalized  in  feeUng ;  and  being  called 
away  from  its  exclusive  home-fields  has  forgotten,  in  its  uni- 
versal interests,  the  petty  interests,  feuds,  gossips  and  strifes  of 
families  and  neighborhoods.  This  wonderful  extension  of  the 
field  of  vision,  this  compression  of  the  human  race  into  one 
great  family,  must  tend  to  identify  its  interests,  sympathies,  and 
motives.  .  .  .  The  press  is  destined,  more  than  any  other 
agency,  to  melt  and  mold  the  jarring  and  contending  nations 
of  the  world  into  that  one  great  brotherhood  which  through 
long  centuries  has  been  the  ideal  of  the  Christian  and  the  philan- 
thropist. Its  mission  has  but  just  commenced.  A  few  years  more 
and  a  great  thought  uttered  within  sight  of  the  Atlantic  will 
rise  with  the  morrow's  sun  and  shine  upon  miUions  of  minds 
within  sight  of  the  Pacific.  The  murmur  of  Asia's  multitudes 
will  be  heard  at  our  doors;  and,  laden  with  the  fruit  of  aU 
human  thought  and  action,  the  newspaper  will  be  in  every 
abode,  the  daily  nourishment  of  every  mind." 

This  was  the  ideal  view  of  the  matter.  But  meantime 
the  RejiuhUcan  was  making  its  mark  especially  through 
a  close  attention  to  the  home  field  and  its  homely  details. 
At  this  period  its  especial  claim  was  to  report  and  repre- 


100     THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

sent  its  own  section  of  tlie  state.  The  aim  it  announced 
December  23,  1851,  was  "  to  give  the  gist  of  everything 
transpiiing  at  this  active  period  of  the  world's  history, 
and  to  do  it  in  such  a  shape  and  with  such  directness  as 
to  suit  in  particular  the  tastes  and  wants  of  the  people  of 
western  Massachusetts."  A  special  department  of  west- 
ern Massachusetts  news  was  organized.  Dr.  Holland 
wrote  in  a  weekly  serial  the  local  history  of  this  part  of 
the  state.  The  publication  of  this  "  History  of  "Western 
Massachusetts  "  was  begun  with  the  year  1854,  in  weekly 
numbers,  and  continued  for  over  a  twelvemonth.  It 
traced  the  annals  of  each  town  in  the  western  counties 
from  its  earliest  settlement,  and  outlined  the  general 
social  history  of  the  community.  The  work  was  done 
with  immense  industry,  with  strong  sympathy  with  the 
local  traditions  and  sentiment,  and  in  that  popular  and 
readable  style  of  which  Dr.  Holland  was  a  master.  It 
was  his  first  large  literary  work,  and  was  followed  by  a 
historical  novel,  ''The  Bay  Path,"  of  which  the  scenes  lay 
in  the  early  colonial  time  of  Springfield  and  its  neighbor- 
hood. These  writings  appealed  to  local  patriotism,  and 
strengthened  it,  and  through  them  the  paper's  roots 
struck  more  tenaciously  into  the  local  soil.  At  the  same 
time  its  range  was  widening  and  its  power  increasing. 
In  the  new  era  of  politics,  at  the  birth  of  the  Republican 
party,  it  will  be  seen  how  it  rose  to  a  leadership)  of  nobler 
quality  and  wider  scope,  and  it  was  with  ample  justifi- 
cation that  its  prospectus  for  1856  advanced  a  broader 
claim  than  before.  "Its  highest  ambition  is  to  be  the 
representative  of  New  England  sentiment,  and  the  ser- 
vant of  New  England  interests."  This  always  remained 
its  highest  claim  and  its  proudest  boast — to  be  the  repre- 
sentative newspaper  of  New  England. 

The  faculty  in  which  Mr.  Bowles  fij'st  showed  emi- 
nence— the   germ  as  it  were  from  which  his   powers 


THE  JOUKNALIST  AT  WOEK  :    HIS  LIEUTENANTS.   101 

developed  — was  skill  in  gathering  news.  Said  IVIr.  Bryan, 
who  was  added  to  the  paper's  force  in  1852 :  "  He  and  I 
would  go  into  a  little  restaurant  on  Sanford  street,  and 
one  and  another  would  di'op  in  and  exchange  a  few 
words,  and  while  we  were  eating  our  lunch  he  would  pick 
up  half  a  column  of  news."  Said  a  friend  in  a  neighbor- 
ing town :  "  I  would  meet  him  on  the  street,  we  would 
chat  a  few  minutes  about  the  events  of  the  day,  and 
next  morning  I  would  find  in  the  paper  everything  I 
had  told  him."  In  the  political  conventions  which  he 
attended  and  reported,  he  was  in  his  native  element.  He 
button-holed  everybody,  and  offended  nobody ;  found  out 
the  designs  of  every  clique,  the  doings  of  every  secret 
caucus,  got  at  the  plans  of  the  leaders,  the  temper  of  the 
crowd,  sensed  the  whole  situation, —  and  the  next  morn- 
ing's Republican  gave  a  better  idea  of  the  convention  to 
those  who  had  staid  at  home  than  many  of  its  partici- 
pants had  gained.  These  reporting  expeditions  were 
full  of  education  to  him.  His  mode  of  growth  was  by 
absorption.  Other  people  were  to  him  sponges  out  of 
which  he  deftly  squeezed  whatever  knowledge  they  could 
yield.  As  yet,  the  work  of  the  paper  held  him  pretty 
closely  to  Springfield,  and  allowed  but  few  of  those  flying 
trips  to  the  centers  of  intelligence  which  in  later  years  he 
used  constantly  to  make.  But  he  made  the  most  of  every 
opportunity.  In  the  winter  of  1852-3  he  was  appointed 
messenger  to  carry  the  electoral  vote  of  the  state  to 
Washington.  It  was  the  first  time  he  had  been  there 
since  his  invalid  journey  southward,  eight  years  before. 
George  Ashmun  showed  him  all  sides  of  the  city's  life. 

Another  journey  he  made  in  1854  to  Chicago,  and 
thence  "N^ith  a  great  excursion  party  to  the  Falls  of  St. 
Anthony.  He  wrote  to  the  Bepuhlican  a  series  of  letters 
describing  this  journey.  One  passage,  written  at  Niagara 
Falls,  illustrates  how  in  this  early  stage  of  his  develop- 


102     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

meiit  the  grandeur  of  Nature,  instead  of  carrying  him 
into  a  different  realm  from  that  of  humanity,  stimulated 
his  sense  of  the  intense  human  activities  in  which  his 
life  was  merged. 

"  America  is  written  all  over  the  Falls.  Its  roar  is  that  of 
the  nation.  Its  majestic  sweep  typifies  the  gi'and  progress  of 
America.  The  maddenuig,  dashing,  seething,  bafiiing,  pitch- 
ing, uneasy  flood  typifies  the  intensity  of  the  American  mind, 
and  the  vitahty  of  American  action.  Here  is  the  fountain  of 
true  young  America  —  here  the  breast  which  gives  it  milk  — 
here  the  nurture  which  gives  it  vitahty.  And  then  the  rain- 
bows hovering  over  and  about  the  scene,  do  they  not  signify 
the  promise  which  America  gives  to  mankind,  the  hope  which 
it  implants  in  weary-laden  hearts,  the  home  which  it  furnishes 
to  the  outcast  and  wanderer  from  governmental  oppression  and 
social  villainy  elsewhere  *?  " 

Gradually  co-laborers  and  lieutenants  were  added  to 
Mr.  Bowles  and  Dr.  Holland.  Mr.  Clark  W.  Bryan,  pre- 
viously the  conductor  of  the  BerhsMre  Courier,  of  Great 
Barrington,  came  as  an  addition  to  the  force  in  Novem- 
ber, 1854,  and  continued  with  it  for  twenty  years, — 
a  man  of  high  fidelity  and  capacity,  greedy  of  work, 
warm-hearted,  and  thoroughly  loyal  to  his  chief.  For 
several  years  he  had  been  employed  to  collect  the  elec- 
tion returns  from  southern  Berkshire.  The  gathering  of 
the  returns  from  western  Massachusetts  was  a  special 
achievement  of  the  Republican.  Says  Mr.  Bryan,  in  the 
Paper  World,  April,  1880 :  "  The  writer  scoured  south- 
ern Berkshire,  driving  personally  fifty  miles  by  horse- 
power and  the  same  number  on  a  locomotive,  between 
the  closing  of  the  polls  in  the  hill  towns  of  Berkshire 
and  the  hour  of  eleven  P.  M.,  when  the  returns  of  every 
town  in  western  Massachusetts  —  with  only  one  excep- 
tion, on  two  occasions  —  were  in  the  Bepublican  otRce." 
From  the  southern  border  the  returns  were  gathered  to 


THE  JOURNALIST  AT  WOEK  :    HIS  LIEUTENANTS.    103 

Great  Barrington,  thence  fleet  horses  took  them  to  Pitts- 
field,  where  they  were  met  by  a  hand-car  from  North 
Adams,  bringing  Henry  L.  Dawes  with  the  reports  from 
the  northern  towns ;  and  from  Pittsfield  Mr.  Bryan  took 
them  by  locomotive  to  Springfield.  The  river  counties 
were  covered  by  special  locomotive  from  South  Vernon, 
connecting  with  horse-expresses  along  the  way.  The 
organization  of  such  an  achievement  was  a  congenial 
enterprise  for  Mr.  Bowles,  and  brought  him  into  acquaint- 
ance with  energetic  and  capable  men  throughout  the 
region. 

When  Mr.  Bryan  came  to  the  paper,  Mr.  Bowles  was 
still  partially  disabled  by  the  weakening  of  the  eyes 
which  preceded  and  followed  his  severe  sickness  in  the 
spring  of  1852.  From  November  to  the  next  September, 
he  was  not  much  engaged  in  the  editorial  rooms,  except 
in  making  up  the  Weekly.  This  task  he  kept  in  his  own 
hands,  with  rare  exceptions,  till  the  end  of  his  life.  He 
made  the  Weekly  always  his  special  concern.  It  went  to 
a  more  distant  circle  of  readers  than  the  Daily ;  it  was 
likely  to  receive  more  leisurely  reading ;  and  the  work  of 
skimming  for  it  the  cream  from  the  pages  of  the  Daily 
was  one  which  he  seldom  trusted  to  another  hand.  The 
general  editorial  work  through  these  months  was  done 
by  Dr.  Holland  and  Mr.  Bryan,  with  no  reporter  or  regu- 
lar assistant.  Dr.  Holland  worked  through  the  day  till 
eight  or  nine  in  the  evening.  Mr.  Bryan  worked  in  the 
office  from  eleven  in  the  morning  till  four,  then  went  to 
the  depot  for  the  Boston  papers,  returned  to  the  office 
and  worked  on  local  and  telegraphic  news  till  two  in  the 
morning.  After  nearly  a  year  of  this,  he  broke  down  in 
a  severe  illness.  On  his  recovery,  a  new  arrangement 
was  made;  a  job  printing-office  was  bought,  and  the 
firm,  now  including  Mr.  Bryan,  carried  on  a  general 
printing  and  book-binding  business,  which  became  very 


104     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

prosperous.  Of  this  Mr.  Bryan  took  charge,  along  with 
the  publishing  department  of  the  newspaper.  He  was 
succeeded  in  the  editorial  room  by  Mr.  Alanson  Hawley. 
To  purchase  the  printing  business,  the  partners  had  to 
unite  in  borrowing  four  thousand  dollars.  There  was 
no  further  need  to  put  in  capital,  and  thereafter  the 
profits  steadily  increased. 

Of  Mr.  Bowles,  Mr.  Bryan  wrote  in  the  Paper  World, 
some  time  after  his  death : 

"  Labor  was  his  relaxation,  toil  his  daily  meat  and  drink, 
perseverance  his  amusement,  and  achievement  his  recompense. 
.  .  .  Once  placed  on  the  high  road  to  fame  and  fortune,  the 
Mepublican  made  rapid  strides  in  the  way  of  achievement  and 
success,  but  Mr.  Bowles  never  slackened  his  hold  on  the  reins  of 
government  and  management,  or  eased  his  shoulders  from  the 
heavy  burden  of  labor  which  he  assumed  at  the  outset.  He 
was  omnipresent.  He  knew  everything,  saw  everything,  dic- 
tated everything,  and  his  dictation  dictated  every  time." 

Between  Mr.  Bryan  and  his  chief  the  personal  inter- 
course in  these  hard-working  years  was  harmonious  and 
kindly.  There  were  morning  horseback  rides  together; 
and  walks  in  which  plans  and  prospects  were  eagerly 
and  sympathetically  discussed.  The  impression  made  by 
Mr.  Bowles  upon  his  comrade  was  that  of  a  winning  and 
charming  personality,  yet  not  without  occasional  alterna- 
tions of  hardness  and  severity.  "  Yet  all  our  early  rela- 
tions," says  Mr.  Bryan,  "  were  most  pleasant, —  some  of 
my  happiest  days  were  as  we  walked  and  talked  and 
planned  and  hoped  together." 

In  studying  the  files  of  the  Bepuhlican,  the  reader 
notes,  about  the  year  1856,  an  added  breadth  and  pun- 
gency in  the  editorial  writing  which  seemed  to  indicate 
some  marked  addition  to  the  force.  Such  an  addition 
there  had  been ;  for  the  staff  was  now  increased  to  four 


THE  JOUKXALIST  AT  WOKK  :    HIS  LIEUTENANTS.   105 

by  the  inclusion  of  Mr.  Joseph  E.  Hood.  The  few  who 
personally  knew  Mr.  Hood  held  but  one  opinion  of  his 
character  and  genius.  At  the  time  of  his  death  that 
character  and  genius  were  portrayed  by  Mr.  Bowles  in  a 
letter  to  the  Bepiiblican  of  December  2,  1871,  from  Den- 
ver, Colorado,  where  he  had  been  sitting  by  the  bedside 
of  the  dying  man  —  one  of  the  best  of  the  unknown  ser- 
vants of  mankind,  whose  high  fortune  it  is  "  to  widen 
knowledge,  and  escape  the  praise." 

''  So  little  of  personal  fame  and  public  observation,  with  so 
much  of  real  pubUc  service,  and  so  much  of  real  influence,  it 
seems  to  me,  was  never  united  ia  one  life  as  in  that  of  this  late 
associate  of  ours.  For  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  he  had 
been  a  constant  writer  upon  the  weekly  and  daily  press  of  Amer- 
ica,— doing  a  gi-eater  amount  of  first-class  work  than  almost 
any  other  man  who  has  hved  and  labored  in  this  generation, — 
yet  only  a  very  few  of  the  men  and  women  who  daily  read  and 
were  daily  instructed  and  inspired  by  his  writiugs  on  pohtical, 
social,  and  rehgious  questions,  knew  to  whom  they  were 
indebted,  or  were  aware  even  of  his  personal  existence.  .  .  . 
His  hl-health  was  one  cause  of  this  retirement ;  but  the  main 
reason  was  a  simple  modesty  of  mind  that  shimned  the  haimts 
of  men,  and  found  its  chief  pleasures  in  his  work,  in  his  papers 
and  books,  and  in  the  company  of  the  chosen  few  of  his  home 
circle. 

"  Bom  at  Amesbury,  Mass.,  in  1815,  Mr.  Hood  never  saw  his 
father,  who  was  a  sea  captain  and  was  drowned  while  upon  a 
voyage,  and  inherited  from  his  mother  a  feeble  and  consump- 
tive constitution,  and  yet  a  tenacious,  nervous,  fibrous  hold  on 
life  that  carried  her  on  to  old  age,  and  would  probably  have 
similarly  preserved  him  under  more  favorable  circumstances  of 
residence  and  avocation.  The  neighbor  and  companion  in 
youth,  the  friend  in  manhood,  of  the  poet  Whittier,  he  greatly 
resembled  him  in  purity  and  simphcity  of  character,  and  in 
fineness  of  intellectual  feeling,  as  he  even  exceeded  him  in 
breadth  of  culture,  in  capacity  of  expression,  and  in  practical 
usefidness   in  life.     He  shared  with  Whittier,  also,  an  early 


106     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

advocacy  of  the  anti-slavery  cause,  and  while  in  Dartmouth 
College  made  himseK  famous  among  his  fellows  as  a  leader 
therein.  At  that  time,  it  wih  be  remembered,  the  abohtion 
agitation  was  unpopular ;  parties  frowned  upon  it,  the  church 
was  at  least  cold  toward  it,  and  the  college  authorities  strove 
to  crush  out  its  growth  among  their  students.  To  be  what 
young  Hood  then  was,  a  pioneer  and  leader  in  it,  indicated 
high  character — an  independent  conscience  and  an  unflinching 
courage  —  and  what  did  not  necessarily  f oUow,  also,  but  what 
was  always  conspicuous  in  him,  a  sweet  and  unassuming 
modesty  and  personal  self-abnegation  in  walking  iiiTnly  the 
path  of  duty. 

''  From  Dartmouth  College,  where  he  graduated  in  1841,  he 
soon  went  to  the  Andover  Theological  Seminary,  intending  to 
fit  for  the  ministry ;  but,  finding  after  a  year's  experience 
there,  partly  on  account  of  his  antagonism  to  the  popular 
church  organizations  on  the  slavery  question,  and  partly 
on  account  of  an  independent  spirit  of  inquiry  and  thought 
on  theological  questions,  that  he  was  not  hkely  to  be  in 
such  close  sympathy  with  the  churches  that  Andover  repre- 
sented as  his  conscience  would  require  of  him  to  take  a 
pastorate,  he  surrendered  this  purpose,  and  turned  his  atten- 
tion to  journahsm."  He  began  at  Hanover,  N.  H.,  as  editor 
of  a  small  temperance  and  anti-slavery  paper,  the  Family 
Visitor,  which  in  1844  he  removed  to  Concord,  enlarged,  and 
re-named  the  Granite  Freeman.  The  paper  was  the  organ  of  the 
Liberty  and  afterward  the  Free-soil  party,  and  was  merged 
in  the  Independent  Democrat.  In  1849  Mr.  Hood  left  jour- 
nahsm to  engage  in  the  telegraph  business,  and  this  employ- 
ment brought  him  to  Springfield.  ''  It  was  while  thus  living  in 
Springfield  that  his  abilities  as  a  journalist  became  known 
to  the  Bepublican,  and  after  waiting  a  year  or  two  to  grow 
strong  enough  to  employ  him,  it  engaged  his  services  in  1855. 
From  that  time  until  1869  —  full  fourteen  years  —  he  held  a 
leading  position  in  the  editorial  department  of  that  journal. 
He  had  no  taste  for  business  ;  he  declined  executive  responsi- 
bilities, and  had  no  capacity  for  what  may  be  called  the  direct- 
ing and  managing  of  a  public  journal ;  but  in  the  details  of 


THE  JOUKNALIST  AT  WORK  :    HIS  LIEUTENANTS.   107 

its  columns — for  writing  editorials  not  only  on  the  cuiTent 
topics  of  polities  and  life,  but  on  abstract  questions  of  civil  and 
political  economy,  on  practical  and  theoretical  religion,  on 
literature  and  science,  indeed  on  all  the  conceivable  questions 
that  come  within  the  greedy  grasp  of  the  modem  newspaper, 
as  well  as  in  condensing  and  arranging  news  and  making 
selections,  I  never  saw  a  man  who  was  even  his  equal,  either 
in  the  character,  variety,  or  amount  of  the  work  that  he  could 
and  did  do.  IiTCgularity  in  hfe  and  labor  was  impossible  to 
him  ;  day  in  and  day  out,  month  after  month,  and  almost  year 
after  year,  he  was  as  steady  as  a  clock  in  attendance  at  the 
ofi&ce,  and  in  a  constant  and  quiet  and  yet  rapid  execution  of 
every  species  of  editorial  labor.  His  style  was  admirable, — 
simple,  direct,  pure,  forcible  without  being  passionate,  pungent 
without  being  vulgar,  often  deUcately  sarcastic  and  deliciously 
humorous,  never  egotistical,  never  suggesting  the  writer, 
always  representing  the  journal,  and  this  as  the  voice  of  the 
people, —  he  was  by  nature,  by  culture,  by  experience  the  model 
modem  working  journaUst.  He  saw  the  world  without,  partly 
through  others,  but  chiefly  through  its  own  words,  interpreted 
to  him  by  his  own  divine  instincts.  The  Bepuhlican  has  had 
many  capable  and  faithful  servants,  but  no  one  who  united  so 
much  of  capacity  with  so  much  of  fidelity  as  Mr.  Hood ;  and 
few  of  its  readers  knew  how  much  of  the  varied  charms  and 
value  of  its  columns  during  these  fourteen  years  was  due  to  his 
sagacity  of  thought,  varied  culture,  hvely  interest  in  all  prog- 
ress, and  dehcate  deftness  of  expression.  His  life  seemed  very 
naiTOW  ;  he  knew  as  few  people  personally  in  Springfield  as  in 
Denver  ;  yet  to  him  it  was  very  rich.  He  loved  his  work  only 
less  than  he  loved  his  home  ;  he  spent  his  time  between  his  pet 
comer  in  the  office  and  his  family  fireside  ;  the  one  sustained 
and  upheld  him  for  the  other ;  together  they  more  than  satis- 
fied all  his  nature.  He  felt  the  great  though  unseen  power  he 
was  exerting  through  the  paper  ;  he  had  no  ambition  to  stand 
in  nearer  or  more  personal  relations  to  his  audience  ;  his  wife 
and  children  gave  him  all  he  wanted  else. 

'*  But  the  infirmities  of  inheritance  were  brought  out  by  these 
years  of  indoor  labor,  though  long  restrained  by  simple  and 


108     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

regular  and  liealthful  habits  of  living  and  laboring,  and  in  1868 
his  attendance  at  the  office  began  to  be  iiTegular,  and  he  had  to 
confront  the  sad  necessity  of  a  change."  He  passed  a  spring  in 
Kansas,  and  in  1869  settled  permanently  in  Colorado,  where  he 
found  rehef  from  bronchial  consumption  and  chronic  dyspepsia, 
and  did  various  journalistic  work,  including  regular  editorial 
writing  for  the  RocJcy  Mountain  News,  aU  of  high  quality. 
"  But  stiU  he  could  never  do  elsewhere  what  he  did  on  the  Be- 
puhlican, — he  left  his  heart,  as  he  had  done  his  life's  best  and 
great  work,  in  it ;  and  even  these  tenderer  skies  and  drier  airs 
could  not  bring  him  up  to  his  old  enthusiasm  and  dehght  in  his 
labor.  He  loved  Colorado  and  the  few  dear  friends  he  made 
here,  but  his  chief  desire,  almost  his  only  hope,  was  to  be  able 
to  go  back  some  time  to  his  old  associates  and  his  old  work  in 
the  Republican  office.  He  knew  it  was  not  to  be,  but  it  was  a 
pleasure  to  him  to  think  it  might  be. 

*'  In  the  spring  of  1871,  the  weaknesses  of  lungs  and  stomach 
obhged  him  to  give  up  all  work.  The  summer  was  to  him  that 
of  a  quiet  but  growing  invahdism — he  was  better  and  worse, 
but  the  worse  grew  upon  liim,  and  within  the  last  month  he 
has  rapidly  failed.  He  held  on  till  his  old  chief  and  friend, — 
nominal  master,  but  real  pupil  in  all  that  was  sweetest  and  pur- 
est and  noblest  in  personal  and  professional  hfe — came  to  sit 
by  his  bedside  and  to  exchange  for  the  last  time  greetings  and 
partings.  Then  he  quietly  sank  away — in  peace  and  in  resig- 
nation, with  sweet  thoughts  of  the  past,  with  sweeter  faith  in 
the  future.  No  hfe  was  ever  better  hved  than  this ;  no  man 
ever  did  more  and  better  work  on  earth,  and  made  less  noise 
about  it;  no  memory  could  be  more  grateful  to  friends  and 
relatives;  no  example  purer  and  nobler.  He  was  both  an 
honor  and  an  ornament  to  the  profession  of  American  journal- 
ism —  he  was  more  and  better,  a  glory  to  humanity. 

'*  It  is  fit,  before  closing,  to  say  something  of  Mr.  Hood's 
religious  character.  It  was  both  pecuhar  and  positive ;  the 
spirit  of  Christ  was  indeed  abroad  in  his  nature  and  in  his  life  ; 
theology  was  a  favorite  study  of  his,  and  with  the  Scriptures 
he  was  most  familiar, —  few  ministers  are  more  learned  in  both 
respects ;  and  he  often  said  the  work  he  could  do  the  best  was 


THE  JOUKNALIST  AT  WOKK  :    HIS  LIEUTENANTS.    109 

a  commentary  upon  and  exposition  of  the  Bible ;  but  he  thought 
not  always  with  the  priests  and  teachers,  and  his  soul  was 
always  open  to  every  form  and  shade  of  honest  and  intelligent 
behef ,  Though  he  was  attached  through  aU  his  hfe  to  what  is 
known  in  New  England  as  Congregational  orthodoxy,  and  fel- 
lowshiped  with  its  churches,  he  was,  in  the  largest  and  best 
sense,  a  Liberal  Christian,  and  preached,  alike  in  life  and  writ- 
ings, the  gospel  of  love  and  charity  to  all.  As  to  his  personal 
and  practical  Christianity,  if  there  ever  was  a  disciple  of  his 
Lord,  it  was  Joseph  E.  Hood." 

Mr.  Hood's  accession  to  the  Bepiihlican  may  be  fairly 
regarded  as  an  epocli  in  the  history  of  the  paper  and  of 
Mr.  Bowles.  The  presence  of  so  able  and  versatile  a 
journalist  brought  to  the  paper  a  strength  which  allowed 
to  its  chief  a  freer  way  of  work,  a  wider  range  of  travel 
and  reading,  than  had  before  been  possible.  Mr.  Hood, 
too,  was  the  first  instrument  he  found  that  was  perfectly 
adapted  to  one  of  his  peculiar  powers — the  transmis- 
sion of  his  own  ideas  through  another's  personality. 
In  Mr.  Bryan's  words :  ''  Mr.  Bowles  would  talk  to  Hood 
for  five  minutes,  giving  him  points  for  an  article,  and 
then  go  off,  and  Hood  would  work  it  out  perfectly."  To 
thus  use  another  man's  brain  and  hand  is  one  of  the 
special  gifts  of  a  great  journalist.  Mr.  Bowles  had  it  in 
a  high  degree,  and  he  found  in  Mr.  Hood  an  almost  per- 
fect medium  for  such  transmission.  One  result  for  him 
was  an  economizing  of  vital  force,  and  a  corresponding- 
liberation  of  energy  for  other  uses. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
The  Awakening  op  the  North. 

IN  the  political  field  the  struggle  between  slavery  and 
freedom  in  America  went  on  only  in  preparation 
and  skirmishing  until  the  year  1854.  Up  to  that  time, 
the  two  great  parties  treated  it  as  a  side  issue.  Then, 
when  the  truce  made  by  the  compromise  of  1850  was 
broken  by  the  repeal  of  the  Missouri  compromise,  the 
contest  suddenly  expanded  until  the  whole  country 
became  its  theater. 

When,  in  1820,  the  state  of  Missouri  was  organized 
out  of  a  part  of  the  immense  north-western  territory 
acquired  from  France  years  before  by  the  Louisiana 
purchase,  there  was  a  struggle  in  Congress  as  to  whether 
slavery,  which  had  a  foothold  in  the  new  state,  should 
be  excluded  therefrom  as  a  condition  of  its  admission. 
The  question  was  settled  by  allowing  Missouri  to  retain 
slavery,  but  upon  condition  that  it  should  be  forever 
prohibited  in  all  the  rest  of  the  Louisiana  purchase  lying 
north  of  the  line  of  thirty-six  degrees  thirty  minutes 
north  latitude, — the  line  which  marks  the  southern 
boundary  of  Missouri.  The  debates  of  1850  had  no 
reference  to  this  region,  but  concerned  that  other  vast 
country  which  had  just  been  conquered  from  Mexico. 
Now,  in  the  winter  of  1853-4,  a  proposal  was  made  to 
organize,  under  territorial    government, — first  as   one 


THE   AWAKENING   OF   THE   NOETH.  Ill 

territory  of  Nebraska,  but  soon,  as  the  two  territories  of 
Nebraska  and  Kansas, — an  immense  district  lying  west 
of  Missouri  and  wholly  north  of  the  "  thirty-six  thirty  " 
line, — a  part  of  that  very  domain  which  it  had  been 
decreed  in  1820  should  be  forever  free.  The  bill  origi- 
nated in  the  Senate,  and  it  was  a  Northern  man,  Stephen 
A.  Douglas,  of  Illinois, — for  many  years  a  senator,  and  a 
politician  eagerly  ambitious  for  the  Presidency,  to  which 
the  road  seemed  to  lie  through  Southern  favor, — who, 
as  chairman  of  the  committee  on  territories,  incorporated 
in  the  bill  of  organization  a  clause  declaring  that  the 
prohibition  of  slavery  north  of  36°  30,  by  the  act  of  1820, 
had  been  "  superseded  by  the  principles  of  "the  legislation 
of  1850,"  and  was  "  inoperative  and  void." 

This  proposal — instantly  and  eagerly  seized  by  the 
South — stirred  the  North  with  a  thriU  of  resentment 
and  resistance.  From  this  time  began  a  wholly  new 
epoch  in  the  political  action  of  the  Northern  people. 
Unnoted  by  the  politicians  and  the  worldly-wise,  the 
antipathy  to  slavery  had  steadily  widened  and  deepened 
among  the  common  people.  The  more  it  was  thought 
of,  the  more  odious  it  became  to  them.  The  occasional 
return  of  fugitives  thrust  the  horrors  of  the  system  upon 
their  notice.  The  men  and  women  of  keen  moral 
instincts  who  had  long  recognized  it  as  the  great 
national  sin,  served  each  as  the  center  of  widening 
circles  of  conviction.  Millions  who  had  been  unmoted 
by  the  denunciations  of  Garrison  and  Phillips,  had  been 
conquered  by  the  pathetic  story  of  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin." 
But  for  all  this  rapidly  growing  volume  of  opinion  and 
feeling,  there  had  lacked  a  political  outlet.  Love  of  the 
Union,  love  of  peace,  regard  for  the  established  social 
order,  had  united  with  commercial  interest  and  personal 
ambitions  to  hold  the  North  in  acquiescence.  Now,  the 
South  and  its  allies  struck  a  sudden  blow  at  peace,  at 


112     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

ancient  compact,  and  at  liberty.  Slavery  grasped  openly 
at  universal  extension  and  supremacy  in  tlie  nation. 
The  assault  set  free  all  that  hostility  to  human  bondage 
which  the  North  had  been  almost  dumbly  harboring, 
swept  into  its  tide  a  multitude  who  before  had  been 
indifferent, 

"  And  all  the  long-pent  stream  of  life 
Dashed  downward  iu  a  cataract." 

The  aggression  roused  an  opposition  on  other  than 
moral  grounds.  Northern  politicians  who  cared  nothing 
about  slavery  were  alarmed  at  the  prospect  of  a  prepon- 
derance in  Congress  and  the  electoral  college  to  be 
gained  for  the  South  by  the  creation  of  new  slave  states. 
The  men  of  the  Clay  and  Webster  school,  who  had  been 
anxious  to  keej)  the  peace  by  keeping  an  even  balance  of 
power  between  the  two  sections,  saw  the  scales  rudely 
jostled.  Clay  and  Webster  and  Calhoun  were  dead. 
Calhoun's  spirit  had  mastered  the  South,  and  made 
aggressiveness  its  key-note.  The  work  of  the  great  com- 
promises was  undone ;  and  two  opposite  civilizations,  two 
opposite  moralities,  were  to  wrestle  for  the  supremacy. 

The  RepuMican^s  tone  at  this  time,  in  contrast  with  its 
course  in  1850,  is  a  good  illustration  of  the  changed  tem- 
per of  the  nation.  From  the  first  introduction  of  Mr. 
Douglas's  bill,  it  made  frequent  and  sharp  comment  upon 
its  unprincipled  and  mischievous  character.  When  the 
measure  had  reached  full  development,  and  its  adoption 
by  Pierce's  administration  foreshadowed  its  success  in  a 
strongly  Democratic  Congress,  the  Bepiihlican  (February 
8)  treated  the  subject  in  a  masterly  article  of  two  col- 
umns and  a  half.  It  clearly  and  soberly  rehearsed  the 
whole  history  of  the  Missouri  compromise;  and  said  of 
the  proj)osed  repeal : 


THE   AWAKENING   OF   THE   NORTH.  113 

"It  is  a  monstrous  proposition.  It  is  a  huge  stride  back- 
wards. It  proposes  to  undo  the  work  of  freedom  performed  by 
our  fathers.  It  makes  the  government  of  the  great  Republic  of 
the  world  an  engine  for  the  strengthening  and  advancement  of 
the  worst  sort  of  human  slaveiy.  It  is  legislation  against  the 
spirit  of  the  age,  against  the  spirit  of  republicanism,  against 
the  decent  opinions  of  the  decent  part  of  the  world. 

"  Besides,  it  is  a  re-opening  of  the  slavery  agitation,  quieted 
for  a  long  series  of  years,  as  all  supposed,  by  the  compromises 
of  1850.  The  North  had  acquiesced  in  these  compromises ;  it 
sustained  them  and  abided  by  them.  But  the  South  and  its 
Northern  poUtical  aUies  have  broken  the  peace  of  the  country. 
They  make  fresh  and  monstrous  demands.  These  demands 
win  arouse  the  whole  nation ;  they  wiU  widen  and  deepen  the 
anti-slavery  feeling  of  the  country  as  no  other  conceivable 
proposition  could.  The  signs  are  unmistakable.  No  mere 
party  or  faction  wiU  array  itself  against  this  Nebraska  scheme. 
The  whole  people  are  against  it.  The  moral  force  of  the 
North — the  influence,  the  learning,  the  wealth,  and  the  votes 
of  the  North  —  are  against  it,  and  wiH  make  themselves  effect- 
ively heard,  ere  the  agitation,  now  re-opened  by  the  insanity  of 
the  slave-holding  interest,  and  in  behalf  of  the  schemes  of  am- 
bitious partisans,  shall  have  ceased.  The  South  and  its  allies 
have  sown  the  tvincl, —  tcill  they  not  reap  the  lohirlwind  f 

"  The  measure  will  have  a  potent  influence  upon  the  poUtics 
of  the  country.  Out  of  it  now  promise  to  grow  new  and  im- 
portant aiTangements  of  parties,  and  new  and  important  results 
in  our  country's  history.  We  await  theu'  issue  cahnlj^,  hope- 
fully, trustingly.  But  we  shall  not,  because  we  cannot,  be  pas- 
sive spectators  of  the  strife.  Our  sympathies,  our  convictions, 
are  all  with  freedom  and  liberty,  and  against  slavery  and 
oppression.  And  wherever  it  leads  us,  we  shall  battle  for  the 
right  against  the  wrong,  for  freedom  against  slavery,  for 
progress  against  retrogradation, — not  with  blind  fanaticism, 
but  we  trust  with  an  enhghtened  liberaUty  that  will  give  us 
the  company  of  the  wise  and  good,  of  the  earnest  and  the 
thoughtful,  of  all  who  place  country  above  party,  throughout 
the  free  states." 

Vol.  I.— 8 


114     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

In  these  declarations,  the  Eepuhlican  entered  upon  a 
moral  leadership,  such  as  it  had  never  before  exercised. 
Its  chief  editor's  greatness  lay  largely  in  his  capacity  for 
growth,  his  susceptibility  to  enlarging  and  ennobling 
influences.  The  new  impulse  which  swept  through  the 
nation  found  him  open  to  its  full  influence.  He  saw 
with  clearness  and  spoke  with  force  what  right-minded 
men  were  beginning  to  see  and  speak  everywhere.  The 
paper  noted,  February  16,  that  all  the  Whig  and  Inde- 
pendent papers  of  the  North,  with  very  many  of  the 
Democratic,  are  opposed  to  the  Kansas-Nebraska  bill.  It 
gave  for  several  weeks  a  daily  column  of  "  Public 
Opinion,"  containing  the  declarations  of  papers  and  men 
on  the  great  question.  It  was  largely  by  thus  giving  the 
news,  of  opinion  and  fact,  that  the  Republican  maintained 
its  cause.  Its  own  argument  and  appeal  had  their  place ; 
but  the  story  of  what  men  were  saying  and  doing  was 
the  strongest  weapon.  Thus,  there  occurs  from  this 
time  a  frequent  column  of  news  items  about  slavery, 
under  such  headings  as  "  The  Patriarchal  Institution," 
relating  incidents  characteristic  of  the  system  and  its 
abuses.  Among  these  frequently  appear  sympathetic 
notices  of  escapes,  attempted  or  successful, —  the  "con- 
stitutional duty"  to  return  fugitives  having  fallen,  alas! 
quite  out  of  sight.  Thus  we  read,  April  28 :  "  The 
underground  railroad  " — the  system  of  secret  assistance 
to  slaves  escaping  to  Canada — "was  never  doing  a  larger 
business,  we  apprehend,  than  at  present.  We  find  no 
quotations  of  the  stock,  but  it  must  certainly  be  above 
par.  The  travel  is  large,  and  there  are  few  or  no  acci- 
dents. The  signal  success  of  its  operations  speaks  well 
for  the  ability  and  discretion  of  its  management." 

The  struggle  over  the  Kansas-Nebraska  bill  continued 
till  the  end  of  May.  In  the  policy  which  Mr.  Douglas 
advocated,  there  lurked  a  fraudulent  element.     His  pro- 


THE   AWAKENING   OF   THE   NOKTH.  115 

fession  was  that  the  question  of  slavery  was  to  be 
remanded  to  the  (white)  people  of  each  territory  to  settle 
for  themselves.  This  he  called  "popular  sovereignty," 
and  the  name  and  the  theory  had  a  considerable  attrac- 
tion for  a  people  attached  to  local  self-government.  The 
peculiarity  of  totally  ignoring  that  fraction  of  the  local 
population  most  interested  was  hit  exactly  by  Abraham 
Lincoln,  in  his  debates  with  Douglas  four  years  later, 
when  he  said:  "Mr.  Douglas's  popular  sovereignty 
means  that  if  one  man  wants  to  make  a  slave  of  another, 
a  third  man  has  no  right  to  prevent  him."  But,  even 
apart  from  this,  the  pretense  of  remanding  the  subject 
to  the  territorial  population  was  insincere.  Mr.  Douglas 
finally  made  this  addition  to  the  clause  declaring  the 
Missouri  compromise  void :  "  It  being  the  true  intent 
and  meaning  of  this  act,  not  to  legislate  slavery  into  any 
territory  or  state,  nor  to  exclude  it  therefrom,  but  to 
leave  the  people  thereof  perfectly  free  to  form  and  regu- 
late their  domestic  institutions  in  their  own  way,  subject 
only  to  the  constitution  of  the  United  States."  This  was 
the  specious  theory  by  which  Mr.  Douglas  kept  his  hold 
on  a  part  of  the  Northern  Democracy.  Yet,  right  upon 
the  adoption  of  this  amendment  in  the  Senate,  Senator 
Chase  tested  its  sincerity  by  proposing  to  add  this 
clause:  "Under  which  the  people  of  the  territory, 
through  their  appropriate  representatives,  may,  if  they 
see  fit,  prohibit  the  existence  of  slavery  therein"; — and 
this  was  instantly  voted  down  —  36  to  10 — by  the  whole 
strength  of  the  Administration  party,  Douglas  among 
them.  In  subsequent  debate,  Southern  senators  openly 
avowed  that  the  bill  gave  slave-holders  the  right  to  take 
slaves  into  the  territory  and  hold  them  there.  Senator 
Butler,  of  South  Carolina,  declared  that  if  in  such  case 
attempt  was  made  to  free  the  slaves  by  territorial  law, 
the  master  would  answer    "that  he  held  the  slave  as 


116     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

property  under  a  higher  law  than  the  enactment  of  a 
territorial  legislature, — under  the  great  fundamental  law 
of  the  country."  "  This/'  said  the  BepnUican  (March  22), 
"is  the  Southern  view  of  the  question,  and  it  is  the  view 
that  will  prevail  and  be  sustained  by  the  courts,  if  the 
bill  becomes  a  law."  This  prophecy  was  more  than  ful- 
filled in  the  Dred  Scott  decision  of  the  United  States 
Supreme  Court. 

The  battle  went  on  in  Congress.  In  the  Senate,  Seward, 
Sumner,  Chase,  Fessenden,  and  their  associates,  in  a 
minority  of  one  to  three,  stood  their  ground  against 
Douglas,  Cass,  Mason,  Benjamin,  etc.  In  the  House, 
Campbell,  Banks,  the  Washburns,  Gerrit  Smith,  and 
Thomas  H.  Benton,  with  other  Whigs,  Democrats,  and 
Free-soilers,  found  themselves  strangely  associated  to- 
gether against  a  narrow  majority,  led  by  Richardson 
(Douglas's  Illinois  lieutenant),  Alexander  Stephens,  Breck- 
inridge, and  others.  Party  lines  went  down  ;  the  South- 
ern Democrats  supported  the  bill ;  the  Southern  Whigs 
held  a  separate  caucus,  but  failed  to  agree ;  the  Northern 
Whigs  were  against  the  bill,  and  the  Northern  Demo- 
crats were  divided.  The  decisive  vote  was  reached  in 
the  House,  May  22,  and  the  bill  was  passed  by  113  to  100. 
Its  supporters  consisted  of  57  Southern  Democrats,  12 
Southern  "V\'Tiigs,  and  44  Northern  Democrats.  Its  oppo- 
nents were  44  Northern  Whigs,  43  Northern  Democrats, 
4  Free-soilers,  7  Southern  Whigs,  and  2  Southern  Demo- 
crats. The  final  assent  of  the  Senate  to  the  bill  was 
given.  May  25,  by  35  votes  to  13.  Not  a  vote  in  its  favor 
was  from  Massachusetts. 

The  Repuhlican  said.  May  27,  '^  What  the  North  should 
do  "  was  to  pour  into  the  new  territories  a  tide  of  immi- 
grants whose  votes  would  keep  them  free,  to  reelect  to 
Congress  every  member,  of  whatever  party  name,  who 
had  opposed  the  Kansas-Nebraska  scheme,  and  to  return 


THE   AWAKENING   OF   THE   NOETH.  117 

no  member  who  had  supported  it.  The  greatest  prob- 
lem which  confronted  the  friends  of  freedom  was  to 
unite  their  forces  in  a  harmonious  and  effective  organiza- 
tion. The  work  was  one  of  immense  difficulty^  and  was 
not  instantly  achieved  even  under  the  uplifting  and 
heroic  impulses  of  the  time.  On  the  morning  after  the 
passage  of  the  biU,  a  meeting  of  about  twenty  members 
of  the  House  was  held,  at  the  suggestion  of  Israel  Wash- 
burn, Jr.,  of  Maine,  at  the  rooms  of  Edward  Dickinson 
and  Thomas  D.  Eliot,  of  Massachusetts  ;  and  after  some 
discussion  and  a  little  talk  of  trying  to  identify  the  Whig 
party  with  the  cause  of  freedom,  it  was  generally  agreed 
that  the  only  hope  of  victory  lay  in  a  new  party,  for 
which  the  name  Republican  was  judged  appropriate.* 
Michigan  took  the  lead  among  the  states ;  her  Whig  and 
Free-soil  organizations  cooperated  to  establish  the  new 
Republican  party,  which  carried  the  autumn  election.  In 
Ohio,  a  union  was  effected  on  an  "  anti-Nebraska  "  dele- 
gation to  Congress,  and  the  state  was  carried  by  70,000 
majority.  In  New  York  the  Whig  party,  controlled  by 
Seward  and  Thurlow  Weed,  kept  its  organization  on 
an  anti-Nebraska  basis,  and  elected  the  state  officers, 
while  in  the  Congressional  districts  all  the  anti-Nebraska 
elements  united  with  very  general  success. 

In  Massachusetts,  the  Whigs  had  in  the  preceding  year 
regained  their  ascendency.  The  Coalitionists  had  pro- 
posed several  constitutional  amendments  which  were  de- 
feated on  a  popular  vote,  and  the  Whigs  had  won  back 
the  state  government.  The  coalition,  a  heartless  and 
artificial  affair,  was  dead  beyond  resurrection ;  the  revival 
of  the  slavery  issue  set  its  two  elements  at  hopeless  dis- 
cord. The  Whigs  had  lost  by  death,  two  years  before, 
their  great  leader,  Webster  ;  the  mass  of  them  gravitated 

*  This  is  Henry  Wilson's  statement.  "Rise  and  Fall  of  the  Slave 
Power,"  ii.,  410. 


118     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

to  a  strong  anti-slavery  position ;  but  the  leadership  of  the 
party  was  deeply  infected  with  selfishness  and  timidity. 
Within  a  week  after  the  passage  of  the  Kansas-Ne- 
braska bin,  the  Repuhlican  (May  31)  published  a  letter, 
urging  that  the  Whig  party  was  the  best  instrumentality 
for  forwarding  the  cause  of  liberty;  and  the  editorial 
reply  discussed  the  situation  with  breadth  and  force : 

''  Will  the  seceding  Democrats,  the  Whigs,  and  the  AboH- 
tionists  unite  into  one  party  to  effect  success  on  this  point 
against  the  Administi*ation  ?  United  they  will  succeed ;  di- 
vided as  now,  and  the  Administration  maintains  itself  over 
them.  The  opponents  of  the  Administration  have  got  to  hang 
together  or  they  will  hang  separately.  What  is  the  objection 
to  their  hanging  together  ?  What  have  the  Northern  Whigs 
to  hope  by  spuming  association  with  other  opponents  of  the 
Administration  ?  The  national  Whig  party  is  siu-ely  a  defunct 
organization.  It  has  been  totteriug  for  some  years,  resorting 
to  various  devices  to  sustain  itself,  but  has  finally  gone  by  the 
board.  Those  of  the  slave  states  who  represented  it  in  Con- 
gress have,  with  two  or  three  honorable  exceptions,  deserted  its 
colors,  turned  traitors  to  their  Northern  associates,  and  gone 
over  body  and  soul  to  the  administration  of  General  Pierce 
and  the  embrace  of  Stephen  Arnold  Douglas.  The  Northern 
Whigs  cannot  and  will  not,  of  course,  have  anything  to  do 
with  such  men.  The  Southern  Whigs  having  gone  to  the 
Administration,  where  will  the  Northern  Whigs  go  °?  We  trust 
they  wiU  not  stand  stiU  and  suck  their  thumbs,  because  of  old 
prejudices  and  old  quaiTels  with  those  who,  fonnerly  in  opposi- 
tion, are  now  animated  by  the  same  sentiments,  and  bum  with 
the  same  desire  to  defeat  and  overthrow  the  Administration. 
For  ourselves, — whatever  others  may  do, —  we  shall  advocate 
the  sentiments  we  have  enunciated,  party  or  no  party.  In  the 
great  internal  struggle  between  slavery  extension  and  slavery 
non-extension,  we  plant  ourselves  with  the  non-extensionists, 
and  we  shall  join  that  organization,  whatever  its  name,  what- 
ever its  leaders,  that  promises  most  successfully,  most  safely, 
and  most  surely  for  the  common  weal,  to  carry  out  and  estab- 


THE   AWAKENING   OF   THE   NOKTH.  119 

lish  the  non-extension  principle.  Past  enmities,  past  preju- 
dices—  let  them  go.  The  times  demand  it.  The  North  and 
Freedom  demand  it.  Every  right  which  Slavery  enjoys  by  the 
constitution  let  it  have,  and  be  protected  in  to  the  fullest ;  but 
beyond  that  let  Freedom  rule.  Here  we  stand.  Here  the 
great  bulk  of  the  people  at  the  North  are  ready  to  gather, 
if  those  who  direct  public  opinion  and  lead  the  masses  will  only 
let  them  do  it." 

The  teaching  of  events  came  fast  and  hard.  On  the 
very  day  that  the  Nebraska  bill  finally  passed  the  Senate, 
Anthony  Burns  was  arrested  in  Boston  as  a  fugitive 
from  slavery  in  Virginia.  The  warrant  was  issued  by 
C.  Gr.  Loriug,  United  States  Commissioner,  and  also  a 
Massachusetts  Judge  of  Probate,  and  by  him  the  case 
was  tried,  a  week  intervening  before  the  final  decision. 
The  city  and  the  commonwealth  were  stirred  with  pity 
and  indignation.  Mass  meetings  were  held;  the  fiery 
eloquence  of  Theodore  Parker  and  Wendell  Phillips  sum- 
moned the  people  to  armed  resistance ;  with  them  united 
such  men  as  Samuel  G.  Howe,  Albert  G.  Browne,  Jr.,  and 
T.  W.  Higginson,  to  plan  a  forcible  rescue  of  the  captive. 
The  attempt  was  made  prematurely  and  failed.  In  the 
closely  guarded  court-house,  the  prisoner  was  defended 
by  R.  H.  Dana,  Jr.,  and  Charles  M.  Ellis.  When  Simms 
was  sent  back,  three  years  before,  the  mass  of  the  people, 
the  Repiiblican  among  them,  had  grudgingly  consented 
that  Shyloek  should  have  his  pound  of  flesh.  But  the 
times  and  the  people's  temper  had  changed.  Said  the 
Repiiblican  (May  29) : 

''  The  embittered  feehngs  of  the  North  receive  fresh  irrita- 
tion, in  the  new  instances  of  the  execution  of  the  odious  fugi- 
tive slave  law.  The  peril  of  the  Union  in  1850  was  nowise  so 
great  as  that  in  which  it  hes  at  this  moment.  The  bold  aggres- 
siveness of  slavery  is  striking  fatal  blows  at  the  perpetuity 
of  our  Republic,  and  accustoming  the  people  of  the  North  to 


120     THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

serious  calculations  of  the  value  of  a  connection  which  produces 
scenes  so  revolting  to  humanity  and  so  odious  to  every  decent 
feehng  of  Uberty,  while  its  government  disregards  and  destroys 
other  and  higher  interests  that  it  may  stimulate  and  extend 
that  which  is  the  parent  of  such  scenes,  and  about  whose  exist- 
ence clusters  every  foi-m  of  evil,  social  degradation,  and  anti- 
repubhcan  doctrine." 

The  final  scene  was  tlius  characterized  (June  3) : 

*'  The  fugitive  has  been  remanded.  Law  and  order  and 
slavery  and  bayonets  and  slave-catchers  triumph.  The  decis- 
ion of  Commissioner  Loring  was  on  Friday  morning  rendered, 
amid  such  scenes  as  Grod  forbid  shall  ever  be  witnessed  in 
Boston  again." 

The  captive  was  marched  down  State  street,  sur- 
rounded by  a  hollow  square  of  one  hundred  special 
deputies  of  the  United  States  Marshal,  armed  with  cut- 
lasses and  pistols,  escorted  by  marines  with  a  cannon,  a 
thousand  militia,  and  the  whole  police  force  of  the  city. 
He  was  placed  on  board  a  revenue  cutter  assigned  by  the 
President,  and  carried  back  to  Virginia.  The  Republican 
said: 

"  The  world  now  understands,  if  it  never  understood  before, 
that  the  interest  cherished  most  warmly  by  the  American  gov- 
ernment is  property  in  human  flesh.  ...  Is  there  no  eaU 
for  the  burial  of  aU  past  differences  among  good  citizens,  for 
the  one  great  object  of  changing  the  spirit  of  the  legislation  of 
this  country  ?  Slavery  rules  to-day  —  blacks  and  whites  ahke. 
Shall  it  always  do  this  ?  Aye  !  so  long  as  we  fraternize  pohti- 
caUy  with  men  who  have  made  us  their  slave-catchers,  and  use 
our  haUs  of  justice  for  slave  pens." 

The  people  of  Massachusetts  looked  upon  the  return 
of  Burns  with  bitter,  brooding  indignation.  Constitu- 
tion or  no  constitution,  never  again  would  the  state  lend 


THE   AWAKENING   OF   THE   NOETH.  121 

her  officers,  her  militia,  or  her  soil,  for  man -hunting. 
The  leaders  in  the  attempted  rescue  were  held  for  trial, 
but  the  indictment  was  quashed.  The  next  year  the 
legislature  passed  by  an  overwhelming  vote  a  statute 
which,  without  expressly  nullifying  the  Fugitive  Slave 
law,  aimed  to  prevent  its  enforcement,  and,  had  a  case 
arisen  under  it,  might  have  brought  the  state  into  direct 
collision  with  the  general  government.  But  no  one  cared 
to  try  further  experiments  in  slave-catching  on  New 
England  soil. 

Political  union  of  all  the  opponents  of  slavery, — this 
was  the  moral  the  Bepuhlican  constantly  drew  from  the 
events  of  the  time ;  this  was  the  end  it  sought  with 
earnestness,  with  sagacity,  and  in  a  broad  and  concilia- 
tory temper.  It  forbore  from  recriminations  toward  its 
former  opponents,  and  was  in  nowise  exacting  as  to 
means  or  as  to  details.  When  an  anonymous  call  for  a 
Republican  state  convention  was  issued,  the  Eejmblican 
expressed  regret  that  it  had  forestalled  a  more  promising 
movement  led  by  well-known  names,  but  said  (July  10) : 
"  Things  being  as  they  are,  however,  we  advise  men  of 
all  parties  to  cooperate  heartily  and  zealously  in  the 
gathering  on  the  20th,  at  Worcester."  It  urged  its  old 
friends,  the  Whigs,  to  throw  themselves  cordially  into 
the  movement.  But  the  event  showed  that  the  Whig 
leaders  were  not  ready  for  it.  Of  the  convention  of 
July  20,  the  paper  said :  "  Though  respectable  in  both 
numbers  and  character,  it  was  in  neither  respect  a  just 
indication  of  the  sentiments  of  Massachusetts.  It  was 
wanting  altogether  in  leading  representative  men."  Al- 
most all  of  its  members  were  from  the  Free-soil  party. 
"We  do  not  think  the  impracticable  folly  and  short- 
sightedness of  the  Whig  organization  justified  the  Free- 
soil  leaders,  who,  in  consequence  thereof,  found  them- 
selves in  control  of  the  convention,  in  further  impeding 


122     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF    SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

that  concentration  of  action  among  the  friends  of  free- 
dom in  Massachusetts,  which  they  professed  so  earnestly 
and  so  sincerely  and  solely  to  desire."  It  especially 
blamed  the  hasty  call  for  a  delegate  convention  to  nomi- 
nate state  ofl&cers.  The  true  course,  it  argued  in  subse- 
quent articles,  was  to  seek  a  union  upon  Congressional 
candidates  only,  as  was  being  done  in  New  York, — the 
time  being  clearly  unripe  for  a  full  consolidation,  extend- 
ing to  state  officers,  such  as  was  possible  in  Michigan. 
As  the  Whig  convention  drew  near,  a  month  later,  it 
urged  upon  that  body — clearly  tending  to  a  narrow  and 
selfish  policy — to  rise  to  the  height  of  the  situation.  It 
pointed  out  (August  14)  that  the  course  of  the  Southern 
Whigs  had  broken  up  the  party  as  a  national  organiza- 
tion, and  that  the  supreme  necessity  was  union  against 
slavery  extension.  "  We  must  realize  the  altered  condi- 
tion of  things,  and  meet  the  crisis  with  generosity,  with 
boldness,  and  with  wisdom."  It  urged  that  if  the  suc- 
cessful ticket  of  last  year  was  renominated,  it  would,  as 
a  matter  of  fact,  be  taken  by  the  Free-soilers  as  a  gaunt- 
let of  opposition ;  and  that  new  candidates,  such  as 
Julius  Rockwell  and  John  G.  Palfrey,  would  draw 
together  the  elements  whose  union  was  needed.  But 
the  convention  satisfied  itself  by  passing  strong  resolu- 
tions as  to  the  aggressions  of  slavery, —  including  a 
demand  for  the  amendment  or  repeal  of  the  Fugitive 
Slave  law, —  and  made  no  advance  toward  union  with  its 
old  opponents.  It  renominated  Governor  Emory  Wash- 
burn and  the  other  incumbents  of  the  state  offices. 
Upon  this  untoward  result  the  Eepublican  made  scanty 
comment,  but  yielded  a  late  and  cool  support  to  the 
party  nominations.  It  reiterated  that  the  old  Whig  party 
alone  could  not  hope  to  overthrow  the  Administration, 
and  that  its  only  place  was  as  a  body-guard  and  nucleus 
for  the  army  of  the  opposition.     The   Republican  con- 


THE   AWAKENING   OF   THE   NORTH.  123 

vention  (September  8)  had  among  its  members,  Sumner, 
Amasa  Walker,  and  John  A.  Andrew.  It  nominated 
Henry  Wilson  for  governor ;  and  its  constituency  proved 
to  be  hardly  other  than  a  small  minority  of  the  old 
Free-soilers.  Upon  state  issues  the  Whigs  had  a  better 
record  than  their  opponents,  and  were  the  advocates  of 
desirable  reforms. 

But  meantime  a  side  current  had  swept  suddenly  and 
silently  upon  the  advancing  tide  of  anti-slavery  politics. 
A  wholly  different  issue  seized  for  the  moment  the  public 
attention.  The  preceding  years  had  witnessed  an  im- 
mense increase  of  foreign  immigration.  The  immigrants 
of  this  period  were  chiefly  Irish  Catholics.  At  various 
points  they  came  into  somewhat  irritating  collision  with 
the  feelings,  tastes,  and  convictions  of  the  native  pop- 
ulation. They  tended  to  settle  in  masses  in  the  great 
cities,  where  their  numbers  and  ignorance  made  them  an 
injurious  element  in  the  body  politic.  Their  subjection 
to  the  Catholic  Church  gave  offense  to  the  intense  Prot- 
estantism which  America  had  inherited  from  England. 
That  church  was  shrewd  to  push  her  own  interest,  and 
on  some  subjects,  especially  the  public  schools,  that 
interest  was  clearly  hostile  to  the  ideas  cherished  by 
most  of  the  American  people.  The  political  support  of 
the  foreign  element  was  assiduously  cultivated  by  dema- 
gogues, notably  by  those  of  the  Democratic  party. 
Against  these  tendencies,  a  reaction  and  protest  took 
form  in  the  organization  of  a  secret  society,  called  the 
"  Know-nothings,"  which  originated  in  1853,  and  spread 
with  extraordinary  rapidity.  Its  secret  ceremonies  fed 
that  love  of  mummery  and  mystery  which  so  often 
lingers  in  man,  a  sort  of  survival  from  childhood ;  and 
it  found  a  great  opportunity  in  the  disintegration  of  the 
old  parties.  In  the  South,  where  anti-slavery  politics 
were  not  tolerated,   and  Whiggism  was  dead.  Know- 


124     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

nothingism  became  a  rallying-place  for  the  opponents 
of  the  Democrats.  At  the  North,  the  party  was  joined 
by  multitudes  of  anti-slavery  men,  eager  for  political 
revolution,  and  impatient  at  the  delay  of  the  old  leaders. 
It  fell  largely  under  the  control  of  obscure  and  inferior 
men,  but  there  were  some  prominent  politicians  who 
seized  it  as  an  instrument  for  their  own  ends.  When,  as 
"  the  American  party,"  it  took  the  field  in  1854,  it  sur- 
prised the  country  by  its  strength,  winning  many  local 
and  municipal  elections ;  and  in  the  next  two  or  three 
years  it  carried  a  number  of  state  elections  both  North 
and  South.  Its  success  was  very  brief ;  its  permanent 
effects  upon  legislation  extremely  slight;  but  it  played 
a  prominent  part  in  the  transition  era.  In  Massachu- 
setts, the  elements  it  included  were,  first,  men  who  hon- 
estly believed  in  its  avowed  principles ;  secondly,  men 
who  were  impatient  to  break  down  the  old  parties; 
thirdly,  a  great  many  who  joined  the  "lodges"  for 
curiosity  or  amusement;  and  last,  but  not  least,  a  few 
leaders  like  Wilson  and  Burlingame,  who  made  it  a  tool 
to  serve  their  personal  ends. 

The  RepiiUican  first  took  note  of  Know-nothingism  as 
a  serious  movement  March  31,  1854,  when  it  said  of  it : 

"  We  are  as  much  opposed  as  any  one  can  be  to  a  sectarian 
or  foreign  influence  in  the  affairs  of  the  government,  but 
the  means  adopted  by  the  Know-nothings  to  put  it  down  are 
just  as  objectionable,  m.  every  way.  Secret  political  organiza- 
tions, in  a  Republican  government,  are  in  the  last  degree 
reprehensible,  though  we  doubt  whether  they  ever  become 
dangerous  in  America,  for  the  principles  and  good  sense  of  the 
people  must  be  against  them.  Besides,  the  policy  is  bad.  It  is 
good  poHcy  to  Americanize  everything  resident  in  America  ; 
and  organized  opposition  to  any  portion  of  our  population  must 
beget  opposition,  and  tend  to  keep  ahve  prejudices  and  influ- 
ences which  it  is  for  the  interest  of  all  to  do  away  with." 


THE   AWAKENING   OF   THE   NORTH.  125 

From  this  position  the  Bepublican  never  swerved,  steadily- 
opposing  Know-nothingism  as  un-American,  and  hostile 
to  the  spirit  of  religious  equality.  The  political  strength 
of  the  party  first  began  to  appear  in  Massachusetts  after 
the  barren  results  of  the  Whig  and  Republican  conven- 
tions. The  party  nominated  for  governor  Henry  J. 
Gardner,  whose  political  record  was  that  of  a  conserv- 
ative Whig.  The  Bepiihlican  said  that  the  nomination 
was  managed  by  Henry  Wilson  and  Anson  Burlingame, 
as  part  of  an  arrangement  by  which  Wilson  was  to  be 
sent  to  the  Senate,  and  Burlingame  to  the  House.  The 
approach  of  the  election  found  all  the  prophets  at  fault. 
But  the  result  came  as  an  amazing  surprise.  The  Know- 
nothings  swept  the  state  like  a  hurricane.  G-ardner  re- 
ceived 79,000  votes ;  the  Whig  candidate,  Governor 
Washburn,  came  next  with  26,000;  Beach,  Democrat, 
had  14,000,  and  Wilson  7000.  Every  one  of  the  twelve 
Congressmen  chosen  was  a  Know-nothing,  and  the 
state  legislature  was  almost  solidly  of  the  same  party. 

The  Bepublican  treated  the  result  with  the  good- 
natiu'ed  philosophy  which  it  always  showed  under 
defeat ;  and  the  people  generally  seemed  to  pause  from 
their  accustomed  seriousness,  to  indulge  in  a  great  laugh 
at  their  own  escapade.  The  paper  thus  interpreted  the 
event  (November  15) : 

"  The  result  of  Monday's  voting  means  that  the  people  were 
out  of  humor  with  the  old  political  org-auizations,  and  desu-ed 
to  extinguish  them,  break  down  the  differences,  vmite  and  re- 
divide  as  the  new  and  more  important  practical  questions  of 
the  time  shall  indicate  to  be  necessary  or  appropriate.  This 
was  the  voice  of  common  sense  and  the  feeling  of  the  great 
mass  of  the  people.  They  sought  satisfaction  in  a  fusion  upon 
the  slavery  question;  but  the  quietists  and  the  velvet-footed 
philanthropists  on  one  side,  and  the  selfish  schemes  of  party 
leaders  and  committee  men  on  both,  brought  effort  here  to 


126     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

nought."  The  people,  it  continued,  disappointed  and  vexed, 
seized  on  Know-nothingism  as  an  instrument  foi*  breaking  to 
pieces  the  old  parties.  This  involved  the  misfortune  of  dis- 
placing many  good  and  tiied  pubHc  sei-vants  and  putting 
novices  in  their  stead.  Thus  in  the  Springfield  disti'ict  the 
Whig  candidate  for  re-election  to  Congress,  Edward  Dickinson, 
whose  course  on  the  Nebraska  question  had  been  above  re- 
proach, was  replaced  by  an  untried  man.  Dr.  C.  C.  Chaffee. 
*'  But  the  aggregate  popular  mind  is  apt  to  go  straight  to  its 
object  hke  an  anny  in  battle,  without  much  regard  for  the  inci- 
dental injustice  it  does,  or  the  new  dangers  it  creates." 

But  the  broad  result  was  favorable  to  freedom.  The 
Massachusetts  Congressmen  and  legislature  were  strongly 
anti-slavery.  In  the  country  at  large,  the  anti-Nebraska 
movement  had  triumphed.  Under  various  party  names 
it  had  won  a  plurality  of  the  national  House.  It  lacked 
consolidation;  its  elements  became  partially  separated 
again  before  their  final  fusion;  but  a  great  beginning 
had  been  made. 

The  battle  being  over,  the  Bepuhlican  gave  its  interior 
history,  so  far  as  the  Whigs  and  itself  were  concerned, 
with  great  frankness, —  a  frankness  which  it  never  after 
this  time  postponed  till  after  election.  It  referred  to  the 
first  outburst  against  the  Kansas-Nebraska  scheme. 

"We  reproached  ourselves  that  we  had  stood  thus  gazing 
stupidly  on  the  deepening  shadows  of  that  overspreading  des- 
potism. We  felt  that  the  danger  was  one  that  trifled  all  f onner 
knowings  —  and  that  union  of  all  friends  of  freedom  was  the 
imperative  necessity.  The  Whigs  ought  to  have  initiated  a 
cathohc  imion  of  aU  the  opponents  of  slavery.  But  certain 
sagacious  men  had  discovered  a  more  excellent  way.  Under 
the  plurahty  rule  we  might  crush  out  all  opposition.  How  de- 
sirable to  be  done!  We  might  keep  everything.  The  party 
would  be  saved.  The  offices  would  all  be  ours.  And  this  was 
to  be  our  reward,  this  our  satisfaction,  our  answer  when  the 


THE   AWAKENING   OF   THE   NORTH.  127 

multitudes  of  the  unborn  shall  stand  up  to  curse  us !  .  .  . 
These  councils  prevailed,  and  by  them  the  state  convention 
was  governed.  .  .  .  For  ourselves,  it  was  not  possible  to 
act  with  any  other  association.  We  resolved  to  remain  where 
we  were.  Yet  our  moral  sti-ength  was  gone.  There  was  left 
nothing  worth  contending  for.  Thousands  of  young  men, 
ready  to  have  thrown  themselves  into  the  Repubhcan  move- 
ment with  an  enei'gy  that  could  have  defied  opposition,  had 
left  us  for  a  new  connection.  We  felt  that  the  ship  was  sink- 
ing. And  yet  when  that  odd-looking  Know-nothing  craft 
came  up  under  a  press  of  sail  and  offered  us  a  free  passage  and 
good  berths,  we  refused  to  leave.  We  stood  at  oui'  post,  and 
fired  the  signal  guns  over  the  settling  wreck." 

But,  it  concludes,  the  power  of  names  is  broken ;  there 
exist  the  material,  the  motives,  the  opportunity,  for  a 
new  order  of  things ;  the  Know-nothing  creed  is  far  too 
narrow  to  last  long-,  and  a  better  future  is  near. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  Struggle  in  Kansas  and  in  Massachusetts. 

THE  struggle  for  slavery  extension  was  begun  in 
Congress,  and  gained  its  victory  in  tlie  passage  of 
the  Kansas-Nebraska  bill.  This  transferred  the  contest 
to  the  territory  of  Kansas,  while  at  the  same  time  an 
appeal  was  taken  to  the  great  tribunal  of  the  American 
people.  Through  the  succeeding  years  the  strife  lay  in 
these  three  fields, — Kansas,  Congress,  and  the  popular 
elections. 

While  the  Kansas-Nebraska  bill  was  still  under  debate, 
a  movement  had  been  initiated  in  Massachusetts  for  pro- 
moting an  emigration  that  should  determine  the  political 
and  social  character  of  Kansas.  Under  the  lead  of  Mr. 
Eli  Thayer  of  Worcester,  the  New  England  Emigrant 
Aid  Society  was  incorporated  by  the  legislature  in  Feb- 
ruary, 1854 ;  and  in  the  following  July,  its  first  colony, 
of  twenty-four  members,  founded  the  town  of  Lawrence. 
In  two  weeks  came  another  company  of  seventy,  whose 
outfit  included  a  steam  saw-mill.  Similar  societies  were 
founded  in  other  free  states,  and  a  moderate  but  steady 
stream  of  emigration  was  poured  into  the  new  territory. 
The  South  was  wholly  unable  to  compete  with  the  North 
in  this  direction.  It  had  no  such  material  of  hardy  and 
enterprising  yeomanry  to  send  out  as  settlers.  But  right 
upon  the   Kansas  border,   and   across   the   direct  route 

128 


THE   STEUGGLE.  129 

to  the  free  states,  lay  Missoiu'i,  whose  western  section 
abounded  in  a  lawless  and  ruffianly  element,  devoted  to 
the  slave-holding  interest,  and  encouraged  and  led  by 
men  of  high  political  standing.  It  was  with  this  ma- 
terial that  the  attempt  to  make  Kansas  a  slave  state  was 
urged  on.  The  first  settlers  of  Lawrence,  while  still 
living  in  tents,  were  visited  by  a  baud  of  two  hundred  and 
fifty  armed  Missourians,  and  ordered  to  leave  the  terri- 
tory. They  held  their  ground,  and  the  invaders  retired 
without  attempting  force.  There  followed  a  long  series  of 
incursions,  murders,  and  outrages.  A  systematic  attempt 
was  made  to  usurp  the  government  of  the  territory.  At 
the  first  election  of  a  delegate  to  Congress,  in  November, 
1854,  bands  of  Missourians  poured  over  the  border,  dis- 
tributed themselves  at  the  voting-places,  cast  their  votes 
for  the  pro-slavery  candidate,  J.  W.  Whitefield,  and  then 
returned  to  their  homes.  In  this  way  three  thousand 
votes  were  cast,  though  it  was  afterward  proved  that 
there  were  only  half  that  number  of  voters  resident  in 
Kansas.  Senator  Atchison  of  Missouri,  formerly  presid- 
ing officer  of  the  United  States  Senate,  took  a  leading 
part  in  these  operations.  In  March,  1855,  at  the  election 
of  a  territorial  legislature,  the  invasion  was  repeated  on 
a  larger  scale  aud  under  such  systematic  arrangement 
that  every  legislative  district  was  carried,  except  one 
which  lay  far  remote  from  the  border.  The  legislature 
chosen  by  such  means  proceeded  to  enact  a  code  of  laws 
with  the  especial  object  of  establishing  slavery.  Decoy- 
ing slaves  from  their  masters  was  made  punishable  by 
death,  or  hard  labor  for  not  less  than  ten  years ;  the  cir- 
culation of  books  or  writings  inciting  slaves  to  revolt 
was  punishable  by  death ;  the  assertion  by  speech  or 
writing  that  slavery  was  not  lawful  in  the  territory,  or 
the  introduction  or  circulation  of  any  book  or  paper  con- 
taining such  denial,  was  made  felony,  and  punishable  by 
Vol.  I.— 9 


130     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

hard  labor  for  not  less  than  two  years.  The  free  state 
settlers  —  almost  the  entire  population  —  refused  to  ac- 
knowledge this  legislature  or  its  laws.  In  the  autumn 
of  1855,  they  elected  a  convention,  adopted  a  state  con- 
stitution, and  petitioned  for  admission  to  the  Union  as  a 
state.  The  acts  of  the  pro-slavery  legislature  were  syste- 
matically vetoed  by  the  territorial  governor,  A.  H.  Reeder, 
who  had  been  appointed  by  President  Pierce  as  a  Demo- 
crat. The  bills  were  passed  over  his  vetoes,  and  a  legisla- 
tive memorial  for  his  removal  was  addressed  to  the 
President,  who  finally  recalled  him  and  appointed  as  his 
successor  Wilson  Shannon,  who  gave  his  support  to  the 
usurping  legislature.  During  this  period  of  misrule  and 
anarchy,  the  Administration  and  its  party  in  Congress 
gave  their  fullest  countenance  to  the  faction  which  by 
fraud  and  violence  was  trying  to  fasten  slavery  on  Kan- 
sas. Franklin  Pierce  was  a  man  of  fair  ability  but  no 
strength  of  character.  In  his  cabinet  were  William  L. 
Marcy  of  New  York,  Secretary  of  State,  who  held  aloof 
from  the  Kansas  controversy ;  Jefferson  Davis,  Secretary 
of  War,  who  by  no  means  held  aloof ;  and  Caleb  Cushing, 
Attorney-Grcneral,  who  gave  his  adroit  and  conscienceless 
brain  to  the  service  of  the  slave  power.  In  the  Senate, 
the  Administration  had  still  an  overwhelming  majority. 
In  the  House,  which  assembled  in  December,  1855,  parties 
were  so  evenly  balanced — the  Americans  being  an  uncer- 
tain and  divided  element — that  only  after  many  weeks 
of  balloting  was  N.  P.  Banks  elected  Speaker, —  the  first 
great  national  victory  for  the  party  of  freedom.  But  the 
House,  almost  evenly  divided,  and  overborne  by  the 
Senate,  could  give  no  substantial  relief  to  Kansas.  In 
that  territory  slavery  remained  in  a  nominal  ascendency, 
but  with  no  real  foothold  ;  the  legislature,  backed  by  the 
national  authority,  was  not  acknowledged  by  the  people ; 
murder  and  outrage  were  frequent  and   unpunished ; 


THE   STRUGGLE.  131 

peace  and  order  as  weU  as  liberty  were  at  stake.  Con- 
gress was  divided ;  the  Executive  upheld  the  "wrong ; 
the  only  resource  lay  in  appeal  to  the  highest  court, — 
the  vote  of  the  whole  people.  To  make  clear  the  issue, 
to  bring  the  friends  of  freedom  into  harmony,  to  inaugu- 
rate the  Republican  party  and  lead  it  to  victory  —  this 
was  the  great  work  which  fell  largely  to  the  newspaper 
press. 

There  was  in  Massachusetts  during  this  period  a  singu- 
lar mixture  of  political  elements.  The  mass  of  the  people 
entertained  a  deep  dislike  of  slavery.  But  Boston  long 
remained  friendly  to  the  South  and  its  "  peculiar  insti- 
tution." This  was  due  partly  to  commercial  interests, 
partly  to  the  course  of  Webster  and  his  followers,  and 
the  timid  conservatism  of  elegant  scholars  like  Everett, 
and  Winthrop,  and  Hillard.  The  Whig  party  of  the 
state  was  the  inheritor  of  honorable  traditions,  and  re- 
tained to  the  last  a  kind  of  genuineness  and  dignity,  but 
its  managers  proved  fatally  narrow  and  short-sighted  in 
face  of  the  new  emergencies.  They  who  should  have 
been  the  leaders  would  not  lead.  The  Democratic  party 
contained  some  men  of  ability,  but  it  had  little  numerical 
and  less  moral  weight,  and,  whatever  useful  ideas  it 
might  have  represented  in  the  past,  was  now  animated 
chiefly  by  a  fixed  hostility  to  anti-slavery  of  any  sort. 
The  distinctively  anti-slavery  men  were  divided  into  two 
sections,  of  widely  different  characteristics.  The  non- 
voting Abolitionists  sacrificed  all  immediate  results  in 
politics  to  an  abstract  idea;  while  the  Free-soil  mana- 
gers pushed  their  cause  with  less  scruple  as  to  methods 
than  honorable  politicians  are  wont  to  have.  The  body 
of  the  party  were  men  of  pure  intentions,  but  its  active 
conductors  in  Massachusetts  relied  too  little  upon  appeal 
to  the  moral  sense  of  the  people,  and  too  much  upon 
artifice, —  and  to  this  was  probably  due  its  failure  to  gain 


132     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

strength  among  tlie  common  people  of  the  state.  This 
was  largely  owing  to  the  influence  of  Henry  Wilson. 
Wilson  thought  anything  fair  which  served  his  purpose. 
He  was  at  home  in  trades  and  coalitions.  He  was  skillful 
in  public  affairs,  generous  and  kind-hearted,  of  popular 
manners,  and  a  firm  friend.  Having  gone  into  the  Know- 
nothing  party,  and  thereby  got  the  senatorship,  he  was 
ready  to  betray  the  order  to  which  he  had  sworn  fidelity, 
if  he  could  advance  the  anti-slavery  cause  by  doing  so. 
Sumner  was  in  many  points  the  opposite  of  Wilson, — 
high-minded,  little  versed  in  practical  affairs,  by  taste  a 
scholar,  self-conscious,  making  few  friends.  He  origi- 
nally owed  his  seat  in  the  Senate  to  a  bargain  made  by 
other  men,  but  during  his  long  service  there  he  repre- 
sented an  unswerving,  often  unpractical,  devotion  to 
high  aims.  If  Sumner's  principles  and  Wilson's  tact 
could  have  been  united  in  one  man,  he  would  have 
been  a  statesman.  Of  all  the  Republican  leaders  the 
greatest — regarding  moral  and  intellectual  qualities 
together — was  John  A.  Andrew.  Banks  was  too  much 
devoted  to  his  own  ends,  and  the  ability  he  seemed  to 
show  during  the  years  before  the  war  was  not  evinced  in 
later  time. 

Out  of  the  mixture  of  principles  and  policies,  old  organ- 
izations and  new,  honest  and  timid  leaders,  shrewd  and 
demagogic  leaders,  earnest  and  groping  people, —  it  was 
slow  and  puzzling  work  to  build  up  a  party  which  should 
do  the  work  that  the  time  demanded.  The  Know-noth- 
ing victory — filling  the  legislature  and  offices  with 
untried  and  generally  incompetent  men  — was  like  a 
land-slide  which  had  buried  the  old  and  crooked  paths 
and  forced  the  cutting  of  new  ones.  The  road  had  to 
be  cleared  foot  by  foot. 

The  rendition  of  Burns  had  its  political  consequences 
in  the  legislature  of  1855.    By  that  body  a  memorial  was 


THE  STEUGGLE.  133 

addressed  to  the  governor,  asking  him  to  remove  Com- 
missioner Loring  from  his  state  office  of  judge  of  pro- 
bate, on  the  ground  of  his  action  in  returning  the 
fugitive.  This  movement  the  Bepuhlican  supported.  Its 
argument  was  that  a  man  who  voluntarily  acted  as  the 
instrument  of  a  cruel  Federal  law  ought  to  feel  the  just 
resentment  of  the  state  by  being  shut  out  from  its  places 
of  public  honor  and  trust.  In  its  reply  to  a  correspond- 
ent who  argued  against  the  removal,  it  said  (February 
17,1855): 

"We  have  great  respect  for  law.  We  mean  to  abide  by  it. 
But  it  is  not  the  perfection  of  human  reason,  nor  the  beginning 
or  end  of  all  things,  though  it  be  one  of  the  great  instrumen- 
tahties  of  good  order  and  civilized  society.  We  beUeve  that 
there  is  something  besides  and  something  higher.  We  are  not 
ashamed  to  say  that  we  beheve  in  a  higher  law.  We  would 
not  resist  law,  unless  we  were  prepared  for  rebellion  and  revo- 
lution. But  we  would  refuse  to  obey  or  execute  some  laws,  and 
the  Fugitive  Slave  law  is  one  of  them.  Coleridge  was  not  much 
of  a  lawyer,  but  he  was  something  of  a  man ;  and  he  says : 
'  With  our  grandfathers  "  the  man  who  squares  his  conscience 
by  the  law  "  was  a  common  synonym  for  a  wretch  without  any 
conscience  at  alV 

"  There  is  a  conservative  justification  of  the  proposed  I'emoval 
of  Judge  Loring.  The  state  should  be  and  we  beheve  wiU  be 
content  with  estabhshing  the  principle  that  she  wiU  neither 
obey  nor  resist  the  Fugitive  Slave  law.  To  the  clear  estabhsh- 
ment  of  this  principle,  the  removal  of  Judge  Loring  seems  nec- 
essaiy,  as  making  evident  the  feeling  of  the  commonwealth,  as 
an  example  to  such  other  officers  and  citizens  as  are  lawyers 
and  nothing  else,  and  as  proclaiming  to  the  world,  in  unmistak- 
able terms,  the  position  of  Massachusetts.  Failing  in  this, 
there  wiU  be  new  strength  added  to  the  efforts  aheady  maMng 
for  a  law  of  resistance  and  active  nullification.  And  Massa- 
chusetts most  likely  would  find  herself  in  open  rebellion  against 
the  general  government.  For  that  we  ai'e  not  ready.  That 
proposition  we  deprecate.    But  there  is  a  strong  popular  de- 


134     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

mand  for  the  expression  of  the  convictions  of  Massachusetts. 
The  state  seeks  to  declare  itself.  It  is  better  that  Judge  Lor- 
ing  should  fall  a  victim  to  his  own  want  of  sympathy  with  the 
great  heart  of  the  commonwealth  than  that  the  state  should  be 
more  strongly  tempted  to  go  beyond  the  true  doctrine  of  state 
rights  and  place  itself  in  open  opposition  to  the  general  gov- 
ernment." 

It  further  urged  the  matter  thus  (March  10) : 

"About  the  independence  of  the  judiciary:  Do  we  hold  it 
desirable  as  an  end  or  only  as  a  means  ?  Do  we  wish  our 
judges  placed  above  accountabihty  —  legal  accountability,  for 
acts  that  indicate  shameful  obhquity  of  moral  sense  ?  Have 
we  made  them  independent,  not  only  of  sudden  and  fitful  pop- 
ular impulses  but  of  those  strong,  radical,  and  abiding  sentiments 
which,  marking  the  race  of  men,  mark  also  the  will  of  the 
Supreme  Law-giver?  Is  it  meant,  in  short,  that  they  should 
be  the  independent  administrators  of  justice  or  of  wrong  —  of 
the  law  of  God  or  the  law  of  the  devil  *? " 

After  a  long  consideration,  the  petition  for  removal 
passed  the  legislature,  but  Governor  Gardner  declined  to 
accede  to  it.  Judge  Loring's  offense  however  was  not 
forgotten  or  forgiven ;  when  Banks  became  governor  in 
1858,  he  assented  to  the  renewed  petition  of  the  legisla- 
ture, and  removed  the  judge  of  probate,  who  was  then 
placed  by  President  Buchanan  on  the  bench  of  the  Court 
of  Claims. 

The  BepubUcan's  anticipation  of  more  radical  legisla- 
tion was  fulfilled.  A  "  personal  liberty  bill "  was  passed, 
aimed  directly  against  the  Fugitive  Slave  law.  It  forbade 
any  state  official  to  take  part  in  the  rendition  of  a  fugi- 
tive, disqualified  any  attorney  who  should  advocate  a 
master's  claim,  provided  for  the  appointment  of  state 
commissioners  to  defend  the  interests  of  any  alleged 
fugitive ;  and,  in  addition  to  other  particulars,  provided 


THE    STRUGGLE.  135 

that  any  one  arrested  as  a  fugitive  might  be  brouglit  by- 
writ  of  habeas  corpus  before  any  state  judge  or  justice 
of  the  peace,  and  by  him  be  given  a  jury  trial  for  his 
liberty.  This  bill,  one  of  a  class  which  at  this  time  be- 
came law  in  several  states,  was  passed  by  the  legisla- 
ture, but  vetoed  by  the  governor.  He  pointed  out  that 
to  thus  by  summary  process  remove  a  prisoner  from  the 
legal  jurisdiction  of  the  United  States  was  in  direct  con- 
travention of  the  legitimate  authority  of  the  general  gov- 
ernment. But  the  legislature  passed  the  bill  over  the 
veto  by  overwhelming  majorities. 

The  Kepuhlican,  from  the  first,  characterized  the  bill  as 
practical  nullification,  at  once  wrong  in  principle  and 
useless  in  effect.  In  reply  to  an  Alabama  correspondent 
who  repnisented  that  this  class  of  laws  had  strengthened 
the  Secession  element  at  the  South,  the  Republican  de- 
clared (July  14),  that  the  South  had  no  right  to  com- 
plain,—it  had  received  only  a  fair  reprisal  for  its  own 
course  in  regard  to  Kansas.  "But,"  it  continued  as  to 
the  personal  liberty  laws,  "  we  can  see  neither  the  wisdom 
nor  policy  of  such  action.  The  cause  of  liberty  needs 
not  to  be  aggressive  or  unjust.  It  rests  on  no  such 
foundation  as  slavery, —  it  needs  no  such  instrumentali- 
ties to  advance  its  power.  It  cannot  afford  to  resort  to 
them.  Not  from  regard  to  the  South,  but  from  regard 
for  its  own  unity  and  power  should  they  be  avoided. 
They  divide  the  North  and  thus  secure  its  defeat."  The 
law  in  question  is  of  no  practical  use ;  "  it  is  only  an  ex- 
pression of  feeling,  and  practically  impotent  at  that.  It 
is  worse, — it  is  mischievous,  by  dividing  the  sentiment 
and  action  of  the  state,  and  of  all  the  free  states.  Massa- 
chusetts cannot  be  united  upon  it  —  the  North  cannot  be 
united.  It  is  among  the  impracticable  schemes  upon 
which  the  free  states  have  spent  their  energy  and  dissi- 
pated their  sentiments.    Twenty  saw-mills,  a  like  number 


136     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

of  school-houses,  and  one  thousand  Sharp's  rifles,  sent  to 
Kansas  with  men  at  the  back  of  them,  would  be  a  more 
valuable  contribution  to  freedom  than  all  the  personal 
liberty  laws  that  the  ingenuity  of  Abolition  lawyers 
could  devise,  or  legislators  enact  in  a  generation  of  time. 
The  first  is  action, —  the  latter  impotent  words.  How 
much  more  valuable  too  than  such  an  act  would  be  an 
organization  of  one  hundred  thousand  voters  in  Massa- 
chusetts, pledged  to  union,  harmony,  and  action  in  be- 
half of  no  more  slavery  outside  of  the  slave  states  .^" 

Up  to  this  year,  the  Republican  had  been  politically 
hostile  to  Henry  "Wilson.  It  had  charged  the  failure  to 
consolidate  a  party  of  freedom  in  1854  largely  to  his  per- 
sonal ambition,  which  was  gratified  by  his  election  the 
following  winter  to  the  United  States  Senate.  But,  once 
in  the  Senate,  his  course  on  the  slavery  question  was 
such  as  to  win  approval  from  those  who  were  disposed  to 
look  forward  rather  than  back.  The  paper  declared 
(March  10) : 

"  Never  was  the  voice  of  Massachusetts  so  well  and  so  boldly 
uttered  in  the  United  States  Senate  on  this  question  as  General 
Wilson  uttered  it  during  the  great  debate  on  the  bill  to 
strengthen  the  Fugitive  Slave  law."  It  gave  him  the  right  hand 
of  fellowship  in  saying,  April  7  :  "  He  does  not  carry  with  him 
the  moral  feehng  of  Massachusetts  as  Mr.  Sumner  does,  though 
we  believe  he  is  a  truer  representative  of  its  practical  opinions, 
and  will  prove  a  more  effective  operator  in  their  behalf.  .  .  . 
Animated  by  no  personal  enmity  in  our  opposition  to  his  elec- 
tion; seeking  only  the  best  good  of  Massachusetts  and  her 
most  effective  and  truthful  representation  at  Washington ; 
fearing  not  to  denounce  General  Wilson  as  the  mere  politician 
and  party  trickster, — we  have  no  more  hesitation  in  approving 
and  praising  General  Wilson  as  the  senator  of  the  common- 
wealth, faithfully  and  boldly  announcing  and  defending  her 
views  to  the  representatives  of  the  nation.  The  press  has  a 
higher  ambition  than  to  perpetuate  old  feuds,  and  a  wider 


THE   STRUGGLE.  137 

faithfulness  to  truth  than  that   which  denounces  indiscrimi- 
nately the  good  and  bad  deeds  of  a  political  opponent." 

The  unknown  quantity  in  the  political  problem  was 
the  Know-nothing  or  American  party,  which  had  sprung 
up  almost  in  a  night,  like  Jonah's  gourd.  A  National 
Council  of  the  party  was  held  at  Philadelphia,  in  June, 
1855,  which  was  the  scene  of  an  exciting  struggle.  The 
members  were  bound  by  their  oath  of  secrecy,  but  from 
some  source,  which  could  not  be  discovered,  the  proceed- 
ings were  reported  each  day  with  much  fullness  and 
accuracy  in  the  New  York  Tribune;  another  excellent 
report  was  given  in  the  Springfield  Republican,  and  dis- 
patches of  a  similar  tenor  appeared  in  the  Boston  Atlas. 
The  sympathy  among  the  Northern  Know-nothings  with 
the  movement  against  slavery  extension  had  injured  the 
party  in  the  South,  and,  in  consequence,  it  had  just  been 
defeated  in  Virginia  by  the  Democrats,  under  the  lead  of 
Henry  A.  Wise.  The  Southern  members  of  the  Council, 
with  strong  support  from  the  North,  and  especially  from 
New  York,  tried  to  commit  that  body  to  resolutions 
denjdng  to  Congress  the  power  to  exclude  slavery  from 
the  territories,  and  appro\dng  all  the  existing  legislation 
in  favor  of  slavery.  An  opposite  resolution  was  offered, 
demanding  the  restoration  of  the  Missouri  compromise, 
the  protection  of  actual  settlers,  and  the  admission  of 
Kansas  and  Nebraska  as  free  states.  A  hot  battle  was 
fought  in  the  convention.  Wilson  led  the  party  of  the 
North.  After  a  session  of  eight  days,  the  Southern  plat- 
form was  adopted,  by  a  vote  of  eighty  to  fifty-nine.  The 
next  morning  a  meeting  was  held  by  Northern  delegates, 
who  adopted  an  address  to  the  people,  avowing  the  senti- 
ments of  the  minority  resolution.  The  result  was  a  tem- 
porary division  of  the  party. 

The  result  at  Philadelphia  gave  great  encouragement 
to  the  anti-slavery  sentiment,  which  had  there  proved 


138     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

strong  enough  to  break  the  ranks  of  the  new  party,  and 
make  itself  felt  as  the  issue  which  dwarfed  all  others. 
The  Tribune^s  correspondent  wrote  (June  16) : 

"  Thank  God !  There  is  a  North.  The  South  is  aghast.  It 
does  not  know  what  to  make  of  it.  The  North  never  acted  so 
before.  They  beg,  they  implore,  they  plead ;  but  the  North  is 
inexorable.  It  is  not  a  child  to  be  toyed  back  by  sweet  words. 
It  asked  simply  the  restoration  of  what  the  South  had  stolen  : 
it  was  insultingly  denied,  and,  as  if  that  were  not  enough,  it 
was  told  the  robbing  was  right  in  spirit  and  substance,  and 
forbidden  longer  to  complain  of  it.  .  .  .  No  man  went  into 
the  council  with  more  elements  of  distrust  and  opposition  com- 
bined against  him  than  Henry  Wilson ;  no  one  goes  out  of  it 
with  such  an  enviable  fame,  or  such  an  aggregation  to  his 
honor.  He  is  worthy  of  Massachusetts,  and  worthy  to  lead  the 
new  movement  of  the  people  of  that  state,  which  the  result 
here  so  fitly  inaugurates." 

Mr.  Bowles  stood  in  intimate  relation  to  the  events  in 
Philadelphia.  He  was  himself  the  correspondent  of  the 
Trihine,  the  Bejmhlican,  and  the  Atlas,  and  the  author  of 
the  daily  revelations  which  focused  public  opinion  upon 
the  proceedings  meant  to  be  shrouded  in  oath-bound 
secrecy.  The  moral  scruple  against  getting  information 
from  men  in  violation  of  oaths  of  secrecy  was  probably 
outbalanced  in  his  mind,  not  only  by  the  temptation  to  a 
brilliant  exploit  in  news-getting,  but  by  the  advancement 
of  the  cause  he  had  at  heart,  and  the  belief  that  the 
attempted  secrecy  was  against  all  public  interest.  But 
to  most  minds  it  will  seem  a  notable  instance  of  a  warp- 
ing of  conscience  by  the  ruling  passion. 

He  was  on  terms  of  intimate  association  with  Mr. 
Wilson,  and  through  him  and  other  Massachusetts  mem- 
bers exercised  a  direct  influence  upon  the  council.  It 
was  Mr.  Bowles,  as  Mr.  Wilson  relates,  who  wrote  the 
resolution  on  which  the  Northern  members  planted  them- 


THE   STRUGGLE.  139 

selves.  When  tlie  end  was  reached,  a  conference  was 
held  between  Mr.  Wilson,  Mr.  Bowles,  and  Ezra  Lincoln 
of  Boston,  a  prominent  Whig  leader,  and  it  was  agreed 
that  the  time  was  ripe  for  a  united  Republican  movement 
in  Massachusetts,  and  that  Robert  C.  Winthrop  was  the 
man  to  lead  it.  Mr.  Winthrop  proved  unwilling  to 
renounce  the  old  gods  of  Whiggism.  But  Mr.  Bowles 
bent  his  whole  energy  to  effecting  a  general  union  in  the 
new  party,  not  only  through  his  paper  but  by  private 
influence  and  action. 

The  paper  declared,  June  26,  "  The  Republican  fusion 
movement  failed  last  year  in  Massachusetts,  because  the 
Whig  organization,  proud  of  its  supposed  strength,  in- 
sisted that  everybody  should  come  to  it.  It  invited  con- 
cessions, but  made  none.  The  result  was  the  utter 
overthrow  of  that  organization.  Fusion  and  Wliiggery 
were  buried  in  a  common  grave."  This  year,  it  continues, 
the  Know-nothings  must  avoid  a  like  mistake.  Three 
days  later  it  recorded  that  the  state  Know-nothing  coun- 
cil had  decided  to  continue  its  organization,  which  it 
pronounced  a  great  blunder.  It  was  the  same  mistake, 
it  averred  (July  3),  which  the  Whigs  had  made  the  year 
before ;  and  now  the  best  resource  was  a  call,  broad  and 
catholic,  signed  by  men  of  recognized  influence  and 
representing  all  the  past  organizations,  for  a  state  con- 
vention, to  inaugurate  a  party  of  freedom.  The  new 
party  must  originate  spontaneously  from  the  people.  It 
stated  (July  7)  that  aU  the  old  Whig  press,  all  the  Free- 
soil,  and  all  the  independent  journals  but  two  or  three, 
in  the  whole  commonwealth,  were  in  favor  of  a  new 
party.  Such  a  union  had  been  accomplished  in  Ohio, 
and  had  nominated  for  governor  Mr.  Chase,  whose  creed 
on  slavery  was  in  one  word  '^  Denationalization."  A 
private  consultation  was  announced  as  impending  (July 
21),  of  two  or  three  hundred  representative  men,  to  fully 


140     THE   LIFE   AND   TBIES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

discuss  the  ways  and  means  to  Republican  fusion.  But 
this  conference  was  delayed  to  await  the  action  of  the 
state  Know-nothing  council,  which  met  in  Springfield, 
August  7th.  That  body  virtually  abolished  the  secrecy 
of  the  order,  including  all  the  oaths  of  membership.  Its 
main  proposition  in  regard  to  the  foreign  element  was 
that  a  residence  of  twenty-one  years  should  precede 
naturalization.  It  took  strong  and  satisfactory  ground 
against  slavery  extension  ;  but  on  the  practical  question 
of  a  union  on  this  issue  with  those  who  were  indifferent 
to  "Americanism,"  its  attitude  was  ambiguous,  though 
apparently  favorable.  It  gave  this  matter  in  charge  to 
a  committee.  This  action  did  not  satisfy  those  who  had 
begun  to  move  for  a  new  party,  and  a  call  was  issued  for 
the  proposed  conference  for  August  16th.  Mr.  Bowles's 
name  headed  the  call,  but  the  Eejmhlican  stated  (August 
13)  that  this  was  done  by  mistake,  in  his  absence  (he  was 
engaged  in  reporting  the  Amherst  and  "Williams  Com- 
mencements) ;  and  that  he  would  have  preferred  a 
previous  consultation  with  the  American  committee. 
However,  it  says :  "  The  way  is  open  for  the  right  result. 
Let  us  all,  disregarding  private  views  as  to  the  best 
means,  raUy  to  the  accomplishment  of  the  great  and 
glorious  end."  The  conference  was  held  at  the  United 
States  Hotel  in  Boston.  Mr.  Bowles,  in  consequence  of 
the  position  of  his  name  at  the  head  of  the  signatures, 
called  the  meeting  to  order.  A  committee  was  appointed 
to  summon  a  state  convention  ;  among  its  members  were 
Mr.  Bowles,  Samuel  Hoar,  R.  H.  Dana,  Jr.,  C.  F.  Adams, 
George  Boutwell,  Stephen  C.  Philips,  George  Bliss,  and 
H.  L.  Dawes.  This  committee  at  once  consulted  with  com- 
mittees representing  the  Know-nothings,  the  "  Know- 
somethings" —  a  short-lived  rival  society — and  the  Re- 
publican organization  of  1854.  These  all  favored  the 
new  movement,  except  the  Know-nothings,  who  were 


THE   STRUGGLE.  141 

evidently  reluctant,  and  a  call  was  issued  for  a  mass  con- 
vention at  Worcester,  September  20,  with  a  recommenda- 
tion for  a  delegate  convention  at  the  same  time  and 
place ; —  the  latter  proving  to  be  the  more  important 
gathering  of  the  two. 

The  spirit  which  gave  dignity  to  these  details  of  ma- 
neuver was  expressed  by  the  RepuUican  (August  24) 
under  the  heading  of  "  Confidence  Necessary  to  Union " : 

"  The  irmninent  danger  in  which  the  country  is  placed  by  the 
recent  movements  in  behalf  of  slavery  has  elevated  men's 
minds,  and  brought  them  up  above  the  low  level  of  petty  party 
and  personal  prejudices.  Scarcely  any  of  us  who  feel  at  aU 
upon  the  outrages  of  Congress  and  the  mob  in  Kansas,  have 
failed  to  experience  this  purifying,  elevating  emotion ;  and 
while  we  recognize  its  presence  ui  oui'selves,  we  should  recol- 
lect that  other  men  have  passed  through  a  hke  experience.  If 
we  are  led  to  feel  hke  forgiving  and  forgetting  aU  for  the  sake 
of  united  effort  against  the  common  danger,  we  must  think  that 
others  are  moved  to  hke  concihations,  and  are  elevated  to  a  like 
sincerity  and  honesty  of  motive.  .  .  .  We  must  open  a  new 
set  of  books  Tvdth  aU  who  say  they  are  ready  to  move  together 
against  the  strides  of  slavery  into  free  tenitory,  watching  one 
another  closely,  if  the  past  has  led  to  distrust,  but  never  con- 
victing upon  the  past,  or  by  the  help  of  its  prejudices.  Let  us 
stand  or  fall  one  with  another,  not  by  the  past,  but  by  the 
future." 

The  Massachusetts  Democratic  Convention  (September 
5)  praised  the  Administration,  denounced  Know-noth- 
ingism  and  Sectionalism  (meaning  Northern  opposition 
to  slavery),  and  indorsed  '^  the  great  doctrine  of  popular 
sovereignty  for  territory  and  state,  whether  violated  by 
the  unjust  action  of  Abolitionists  of  the  free  states,  or  by 
border  aggression  from  the  slave  states."  It  nominated 
for  governor  E.  D.  Beach,  of  Springfield,  already  the 
candidate  of  the  opponents  of  liquor  prohibition. 


142     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

Over  the  coming  Republican  Convention  hung  a  cloud 
which  was  indicated  (September  16)  by  the  editorial  dec- 
laration that  no  man  ought  to  be  nominated  who  will  not 
sink  or  swim  with  the  new  party.  This  was  aimed  at 
Governor  Gardner,  whose  position  was  fully  discussed  in 
the  paper  the  next  day.  Gardner,  the  Republican  de- 
clares, is  not  honestly  identified  with  the  Republican 
party.  If  it  does  not  renominate  him,  he  will  be  a  can- 
didate in  opposition.  His  friends  make  plain  their  pur- 
pose to  either  rule  or  ruin  the  Republican  movement.  A 
nomination  thus  forced  upon  the  convention  will  discredit 
its  work  from  the  start,  and  have  no  binding  force. 

"  There  is  but  one  way  to  carry  forward  this  movement ;  that 
is  honestly,  fairly,  openly.  ...  If  Republicanism  cannot 
start  right,  fair  and  honest,  it  had  better  wait.  It  can  afford 
to  wait  rather  than  start  otherwise." 

On  the  morning  of  the  convention,  the  paper  said : 

"  But  one  man  stands  in  the  way  of  the  successful  inaugura- 
tion of  Republicanism  in  this  state,  at  this  moment.  That  man 
is  Henry  J.  Gardner.  With  him  withdrawn  aU  would  be  peace, 
confidence,  faith,  success." 

The  convention  was  a  spirited  and  vigorous  assemblage. 
N.  P.  Banks  was  its  president.  The  resolutions  rose  to 
the  height  of  the  occasion.  They  declare,  "  That  slavery 
as  a  state  institution  is  not  within  our  power  or  respon- 
sibility ;  but  slavery  in  its  relations  to  the  nation,  is  the 
concern  of  every  man  in  the  nation ;  in  its  relation  to  the 
free  states  is  the  concern  of  every  man  in  the  free  states"; 
that  the  aggressions  of  slavery,  and  especially  the  repeal 
of  the  Missouri  compromise,  ''  have  made  slavery  in  its 
national  relations  and  its  relations  to  the  free  states,  the 
paramount  practical  question  in  the  politics  of  the  coun- 
try"; that  "the  repeal  of  the  Missouri  compromise  ren- 


THE   STRUGGLE.  143 

ders  every  inch  of  the  national  domain  a  battle-ground 
between  freedom  and  slavery.  It  makes  the  admission 
of  every  new  state  a  conflict  between  freedom  and 
slavery.  The  issue  thus  forced  upon  us  we  accept ;  we 
commit  ourselves  to  God  and  our  country ;  and  may  it 
be  by  no  fault  of  ours  if  another  slave  state  is  added  to 
the  Union,  or  any  of  the  territories  left  open  to  the  pos- 
sibility of  slavery." 

There  was  much  debate  upon  the  nomination  for  gov- 
ernor. The  alliance  of  the  Americans  evidently  de- 
pended on  whether  Gardner  was  nominated.  To  many 
it  seemed  sound  and  legitimate  policy  to  thus  conciliate 
them.  But  it  was  obvious  that  Gardner  and  his  imme- 
diate friends  were  with  the  new  party  only  on  condition 
that  it  served  his  personal  advancement.  A  call  for  an 
American  convention  had  already  been  issued,  and  the 
signatures  included  nineteen  of  the  members  of  the 
Republican  convention.  By  a  close  vote,  the  convention 
gave  the  preference  over  Gardner  to  Julius  Rockwell, 
an  old  Whig,  whose  ability  and  sincere  attachment  to 
the  cause  were  alike  unquestioned.  He  illustrated  his 
sincerity  by  declining  in  advance  a  supplementary  nomi- 
nation from  the  Whig  convention,  which  met  twelve 
days  later.  That  body  represented  the  dignified  and 
respectable  conservatism  which  was  still  blind  to  the 
new  issues,  and  shrunk  from  the  "abolitionism"  and 
"  sectionalism "  of  the  Republican  party.  Its  candidate 
was  Samuel  H.  WaUey.  Of  the  resolutions,  the  Bepub- 
lican  said  (October  3)  that  heretofore  Whig  conventions 
had  always  had  something  to  say  against  slavery;  but 
now,  with  slavery  rampant  and  aggressive,  "  not  a  word 
escapes  the  lips  of  those  pretending,  ^^ar  excellence,  to  be 
the  Whigs  of  Massachusetts,  on  this  subject — not  a  syl- 
lable is  uttered  against  the  administration  that  permits, 
sustains,  and  encourages  these  aggressions." 


144     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

The  Americans  renominated  Gardner.  Up  to  the  day 
of  the  election,  the  Republican  declared  with  confidence 
that  either  Rockwell  or  Beach  would  be  elected.  Mr. 
Bowles's  expectations  of  what  was  to  be  were  often 
colored  by  his  conviction  of  what  ought  to  be.  Rockwell 
and  Beach  represented  the  two  sides  of  the  only  great 
question  before  the  people  ;  Gardner  represented  no  defi- 
nite policy  or  idea ;  he  had  not  even  a  strong  and 
attractive  personality;  he  had  behind  him  only  a  per- 
sonal following,  an  organization,  and  the  prestige  of  the 
last  year's  victory.  But  when  the  votes  were  counted, 
he  had  (in  round  numbers)  50,000,  to  37,000  for  Rockwell, 
35,000  for  Beach,  and  14,000  for  WaUey.  The  Repulj- 
lican^s  comment  was :  "A  man  has  triumphed  over  a 
principle.  And  at  his  feet  lies  wounded  the  cause  of 
freedom." 

Elsewhere,  too,  the  confusion  of  the  true  issue  caused 
by  the  American  party,  together  with  some  reaction  from 
the  first  great  enthusiasm  that  had  carried  the  North  for 
freedom  the  year  before,  gave  a  set-back  to  the  Republi- 
can movement.  The  Americans  were  successful  in  New 
York  and  California,  the  Democrats  in  Pennsylvania, 
New  Jersey,  Indiana,  and  Illinois.  The  Bepuhlican  drew 
the  inference  (November  17)  that  the  American  party 
was  to  play  a  part  in  the  coming  presidential  contest. 
Its  own  support  of  the  Republican  party  was  neither  at 
this  time  nor  afterward  a  blind  and  unreserved  allegiance. 
When  for  the  city  election  nominations  were  made  by  the 
Republicans,  Democrats,  and  Americans,  its  word  was 
(December  3),  '^  We  exhort  every  voter  to  go  to  the 
polls,  and,  acting  independently,  vote  for  those  whom  he 
considers  the  best  men,  and  only  those." 

So  closed  the  year  1855,  with  some  reaction  and  con- 
fusion, and  little  visible  progress  toward  the  triumph  of 
liberty.    But  good  work  had  been  done  by  the  Eepubli- 


THE   STRUGGLE.  145 

can.  No  more  useful  work  was  ever  done  by  it  tlian  in 
these  years  when  old  things  were  passing  away,  and  the 
forces  were  being  harmonized  and  organized  for  the 
decisive  struggle.  In  this  year  Mr.  Bowles  took  a  much 
more  active  part  in  the  personal  conduct  of  politics  than 
was  his  habit.  For  the  difficult  and  essential  work  of 
drawing  men  once  antagonistic  into  friendly  cooperation, 
for  shaping  the  lines  of  a  new  party  at  once  broadly  and 
distinctly,  for  keeping  the  main  issue  and  the  details  in 
right  proportion, — for  aU  this  he  had  high  qualifications. 
WhUe  in  his  paper  he  often  by  his  outspokenness  gave 
offense,  he  had  in  personal  intercourse  a  tact  and  mag- 
netism which  few  could  resist.  Never  a  public  speaker, 
he  was  in  private  gatherings  skillful  to  plead,  to  har- 
monize, to  adjust.  From  the  beginning  of  the  Kansas 
struggle  he  exhibited  a  power  to  take  broad  and  states- 
manlike views,  an  appreciation  of  the  moral  elements 
involved,  and  a  large  wisdom  and  etficiency  in  reaching 
practical  results.  In  his  later  period  his  reputation  was 
largely  that  of  a  critic  and  iconoclast.  But  in  these  great 
and  decisive  years  he  showed  an  eminent  power  in  the 
line  of  harmonizing,  constructive  political  work. 


Vol.  I.— 10 


CHAPTER  XV, 

The  Fremont  Campaign. 

THE  year  1856  opened  with  an  annual  message  from 
President  Pierce  to  Congress  in  which  he  elabo- 
rately justified  the  repeal  of  the  Missouri  compromise, 
and  ignored  the  outrages  in  Kansas.  The  message  of  the 
Governor  of  Massachusetts  was  equally  silent  regarding 
those  outrages,  pleaded  for  the  repeal  of  the  personal 
liberty  law,  and  discussed  at  length  the  favorite  topics  of 
Americanism.  The  national  House  of  Representatives 
sent  a  committee  to  investigate  the  situation  in  Kansas, 
and  their  report  of  facts  had  a  power  beyond  all  argu- 
ment to  teach  the  Northern  people  what  they  had  to  deal 
with,  A  still  more  startling  lesson  was  given  them. 
Charles  Sumner  made  a  speech  in  the  Senate,  in  which 
the  rhetorical  finish  and  observance  of  parliamentary 
forms  made  ouly  more  effective  the  biting  severity 
against  the  slave  power  and  its  leading  representatives. 
His  sharpest  edge  was  turned  against  Senator  Butler  of 
South  Carolina.  A  day  or  two  later  a  nephew  of  Mr, 
Butler,  and  member  of  the  House,  Preston  S.  Brooks  of 
South  Carolina,  came  upon  Mr,  Sumner  as  he  sat  at  his 
desk  in  the  empty  Senate  chamber,  knocked  him  down 
with  a  heavy  cane  before  he  could  rise  or  resist,  and  beat 
him  so  severely  that  he  was  incapacitated  for  senatorial 
service  for  four  years  afterward.    Indeed,  he  never  after- 

146 


THE   FEEMONT   CAMPAIGN.  147 

ward  was  the  same  man, —  to  splendid  physical  vigor 
there  succeeded  a  life-long  struggle  with  ill  health.  Mr. 
Brooks  was  punished  only  by  a  paltry  fine  in  the  local 
court.  In  the  House,  a  motion  of  expulsion  failed  to  re- 
ceive the  necessary  two-thirds  vote.  Receiving  a  formal 
censure,  he  resigned,  but  was  instantly  and  triumphantly 
reelected  and  resumed  his  seat.  He  was  a  Southern  gen- 
tleman, and  his  standing  among  Southern  gentlemen  was 
not  impaired  by  his  act.  From  many  places  in  the  South 
he  received  votes  of  thanks,  and  canes  marked  '*  Hit  him 
again."  In  Congress,  only  the  mildest  disapprobation 
was  uttered  by  his  political  allies  from  either  section.  It 
was  left  to  Republican  congressmen  to  rightly  charac- 
terize the  assault.  Wilson,  in  the  Senate,  called  it  '^  bru- 
tal, murderous,  and  cowardly."  Brooks  sent  him  a 
challenge,  and  in  reply  he  refused  to  withdraw  his  words, 
and  repudiated  the  duelist's  code.  In  the  House,  Bur- 
lingame  denounced  the  assault,  in  the  name  not  only  of 
humanity  and  civilization,  but  of  '^  that  fair  play  which 
bullies  and  prize-fighters  respect."  Brooks  challenged 
him ;  he  accepted,  and  named  a  meeting-place  in  Canada, 
but  Brooks  declined  to  follow  him  there.  The  duelist's 
way  of  redi'ess  was  not  the  Massachusetts  way.  Burlin- 
game  lost  nothing  at  home  by  his  action.  But  when 
after  five  years  more  of  patience  the  state  struck  her 
blow,  it  was  not  against  an  individual,  but  against 
slavery,  and  by  the  arms,  not  of  one  man,  but  of  sixty 
thousand. 

At  the  South,  Brooks  was  treated  as  a  hero.  At  a 
gathering  to  do  him  honor  in  the  following  October, 
Senators  Butler  and  Toombs  participated,  both  of  them 
taking  occasion  to  utter  threats  of  disunion  in  case  the 
Republicans  elected  their  President.  Senator  Mason  of 
Virginia  wrote  of  Brooks :  "  I  know  of  none  whose  public 
career  I  hold  more  worthy  the  fuU  and  cordial  approba- 


148     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

tion  of  his  constituents  than  his,"  and  added  that  if  a 
Republican  President  was  elected,  but  one  course  re- 
mained for  the  South,  "  immediate,  absolute,  and  eternal 
separation." 

The  Repuljlwan  (May  29)  treated  the  assault  as  an 
illustration  of  the  reigning  influence  in  the  country.  It 
sought  to  turn  the  passionate  resentment  of  the  hour 
into  the  practical  channel  whereby  alone  redress  was  pos- 
sible.    It  said : 

''  There  is  no  denying  the  humiliating  fact  that  this  countrj'' 
is  under  the  reign  of  ruffianism.  Ruffianism  has  become  na- 
tional. It  is  the  policy  of  the  Administration,  the  poHcy  of  the 
Democratic  party,  and  decidedly  and  confessedly  the  poUcy  of 
the  nding  interest  in  the  country.  The  Administration  backs 
up  ruffianism  in  Kansas,  and,  under  its  sanction,  ruffianism  prac- 
tices its  cowardly  acts  in  Congress.  Free  men  are  denied  a  set- 
tlement on  the  pubhc  domain,  are  denied  the  privilege  of  making 
their  own  laws,  and  have  even  to  struggle  for  hf e  against  a  ruf- 
fianly mob  and  a  ruffianly  Federal  government.  Free  speech  is 
denied  in  Congress,  and  may  only  be  indulged  in  at  the  cost  of  a 
broken  head.  The  highest  representative  of  the  noblest  of  the 
'  Old  Thirteen '  wins  laurels  for  himself  and  the  commonwealth 
only  to  have  them  soaked  in  his  own  blood.  What  do  you  think 
of  this,  0  men  of  the  North  ?  The  remedy  for  mffianism  resides  in 
a  united  North.  Old  party  names  must  be  forgotten,  old  party 
ties  sui-rendered,  organizations  based  upon  secondary  issues 
abandoned,  momentary  self-interest  sacrificed  to  the  country 
and  its  welfare,  and  aU  must  come  together  and  fight  and  labor 
side  by  side  until  the  great  question  which  overshadows  all 
others  has  found  issue  in  the  triumph  of  justice." 

The  great  need  of  the  time,  the  great  service  of  the 
press,  was  to  bring  into  clear  light  the  question  on  which 
the  people  must  divide  and  decide.  Two  influences  were 
at  work  to  obscure  and  confuse  the  main  question.  One 
was  the  American  party ;  the  other  was  the  duplicity  of 


THE   FKEMONT   CA^iIPAIGN.  149 

the  Democratic  leaders  upon  the  subject  of  ^^  popular 
sovereignty."  Another  National  Council  of  the  Americans 
was  held  in  Philadelphia  in  February,  and  again  Mr. 
Bowles  reported  its  proceedings  for  the  Bepulilican  and 
the  Tribune,  but  this  time  the  convention  made  no  at- 
tempt at  secrecy.  The  Southern  element  was  "sdctorious; 
a  substantially  pro-slavery  platform  was  adopted,  and 
Millard  Fillmore  was  nominated  for  the  presidency. 
Again  there  was  a  secession  of  Northern  members.  The 
organization  in  Massachusetts  hung  doubtful.  A  major- 
ity of  the  state  council — differing  from  those  of  all  the 
other  New  England  states — accepted  the  nomination  of 
Fillmore.  A  secession — such  as  had  become  a  regular 
incident  of  almost  every  Know-nothing  gathering — took 
place,  and  delegates  were  sent  to  a  Northern  American 
convention  in  June. 

The  Democratic  Convention  met  first,  in  Cincinnati. 
Mr.  Bowles  reported  it  for  his  paper.  Pierce  and  Doug- 
las were  discarded  as  candidates  in  favor  of  James  Bu- 
chanan,—  an  old  Pennsylvania  politician,  who  had  been 
Pierce's  minister  to  England,  and  had  engaged  in  dis- 
creditable maneuvers  toward  gaining  Cuba  for  America 
and  slavery,  but  otherwise  had  not  been  involved  in 
recent  controversies,  and  was  of  good  personal  repute. 
The  Republican  (June  10)  gave  the  reason  why  Pierce 
and  Douglas,  faithful  and  efiicient  servants  of  the  South, 
had  been  rejected  and  Buchanan  preferred. 

"  There  is  a  game  to  be  played  with  the  people.  The  re- 
spectable name  of  James  Buchanan — the  name  of  one  who, 
with  becoming  pmdence,  has  contrived  to  keep  himself  dis- 
sociated fi'om  the  acts  which  have  made  that  of  Franklin  Pierce 
execrable — has  been  put  forward  as  a  gilded  bait  to  troU  upon 
the  pohtical  waters,  to  make  the  simple  fish  forget  that  it  is 
tied  to  a  string  of  resolutions  every  strand  of  which  is  either  a 
cheat  or  a  falsehood." 


150     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

The  convention  declared  in  its  resolutions  for  "  non- 
interference by  Congress  with  slavery  in  state  or  territory, 
or  in  the  District  of  Columbia."  What  interpretation 
this  was  sure  to  receive  in  practice,  Mr.  Bowles  pointed 
out  (June  9) : 

"  The  right  of  the  people  of  territories  to  decide  upon  the 
existence  of  slavery  in  the  administration  of  the  territorial  gov- 
ernment, which  was  the  original  intent  and  meaning  of  squatter 
sovereignty  as  expounded  by  Mr.  Cass,  is  nowhere  stated.  The 
power  over  slavery  in  the  territories  is  denied  Congress  and 
given  to  no  other  authority.  The  rights  of  the  citizens  over  it 
are  not  supposed  by  this  platform  to  begin  until  they  proceed 
to  form  a  state  government,  and  in  the  exercise  of  such  a  right 
then  no  party  has  denied  them,  or  proposed  to  deny  them,  fuU 
power.  The  Repubhcan  doctrine  is  simply  that  Congress  has 
the  right  and  should  exercise  it,  of  excluding  slavery  from  the 
territories  while  they  are  territories.  The  Democratic  platform 
solely,  in  tei-ms,  denies  this.  But  in  its  purpose  and  meaning 
it  goes  farther,  and  justifies  and  protects  slavery  in  the  terri- 
tories if  slave-owners  choose  to  carry  it  there.  So  it  will  be 
translated  at  the  South, —  so  it  was  accepted  by  the  unanimous 
vote  of  the  South  in  the  convention  to-day.  The  substance  of 
the  resolutions  in  this  respect  is  that  slavery  is  the  equal  of  free- 
dom everywhere  mider  the  constitution  and  in  the  administra- 
tion of  the  general  government." 

But  the  resolutions  had  been  so  worded  that  it  might 
be  maintained  at  the  North  that  the  Democratic  theory 
was  that  of  a  real,  bona  fide  self-government  by  the  peo- 
ple of  the  territories.  Thus  stated  it  seemed  to  put  the 
territorial  residents  entirely  on  a  level  with  the  residents 
of  a  state,  in  the  control  of  their  local  affairs.  This  was 
undoubtedly  the  plea  by  which  the  Democratic  ticket 
won  rftost  of  its  votes  at  the  North.  The  candidate  for 
Vice-President  was  John  C.  Breckinridge,  of  Kentucky. 

The  first  National  Republican  Convention  met  at  Phil- 
adelphia.    It  nominated  for  President  John  Charles  Pre- 


THE  FREMONT  CAMPAIGN.  151 

mont,  of  California;  for  Vice-President,  William  L. 
Dayton,  of  New  Jersey.  Colonel  Fremont  was  a  man  of 
small  political  experience,  but  with  high  reputation  as 
an  intrepid  explorer  and  soldier ;  regarded  as  a  prompt, 
resolute,  and  honorable  man  of  action,  and  a  chivalrous 
gentleman.  His  youth,  his  freedom  from  the  soils  of 
political  intrigue,  a  certain  personal  fascination,  and 
the  dignity  with  which  he  bore  himself  under  a  torrent 
of  bitter  calumnies,  made  him  a  sort  of  ideal  hero,  most 
congenial  to  the  high  enthusiasm  with  which  the  young 
party  of  freedom  fought  its  first  great  fight.  He  was 
wholly  untried  in  statesmanship,  was  in  reality  little 
known  to  the  country,  and  his  subsequent  development 
showed  him  little  fit  for  any  high  trust.  But  his  per- 
sonality caught  the  popular  fancy.  Yet  the  fight  was 
for  a  principle,  not  for  a  person,  save  as  he  seemed  to 
embody  the  principle.   Said  the  Republican  (September  6) : 

"  Pure  as  is  the  life  of  Colonel  Fremont,  spotless  as  is  his 
reputation,  noble  as  are  his  traits  of  character,  high  as  are  his 
accomphshments,  and  devotedly  as  the  people  love  him,  his 
name  ia  any  public  assembly  of  Republicans  awakens  no 
responses  like  those  which  greet  the  annunciation  of  the  sen- 
timents which  he  represents." 

The  Republican  platform  declared  it  to  be  "  the  right 
and  the  imperative  duty  of  Congress  to  prohibit  in  the 
territories  those  twin  relics  of  barbarism,  polygamy  and 
slavery."  It  demanded  the  immediate  admission  of  Kan- 
sas as  a  free  state,  and  denied  the  authority  of  Congress 
or  a  territorial  legislature  to  give  legal  existence  to 
slavery  in  any  territory.  Of  the  temper  of  the  assembly 
Mr.  Bowles  wrote  (June  24) : 

"  Certainly  we  never  saw  a  pohtical  convention  in  which 
there  was  so  much  soul  as  in  that  at  Philadelphia.  It  was  poh- 
tics  with  a  heart  and  a  conscience  in.  it.     .     .     .     Cincinnati 


152     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

gathered  the  remains  of  a  once  powerful  national  party,  and 
contiibuted  to  its  further  sectionahzation  and  destruction. 
Philadelphia  called  together  the  heart,  the  independence,  and 
the  brains  of  all  parties,  to  estabhsh  a  broader  and  juster  na- 
tionality. Such  a  fusion  of  contradictory  elements  was  never 
witnessed  in  this  countiy  before  since  the  times  of  the  Revolu- 
tion. Nor  could  it  happen  now  save  under  a  great  emergency, 
and  from  a  controUing  necessity.  Such  a  combination  of  the 
material  and  mental  forces  of  the  Republic  as  was  represented 
in  the  Philadelphia  convention,  and  united  in  its  enthusiastic 
and  hannonious  results,  has  more  power  than  any  pohtical 
combination  ever  formed  before  in  this  country,  and  cannot  in 
the  nature  of  things  be  long  kept  in  the  background.  There  is 
no  law  more  certain  than  that  which  will  throw  such  a  union  of 
the  moral  strength,  intellectual  activity  and  youthful  energy  of 
the  nation,  into  supremacy,  and  that  right  speedily.  It  may 
be  delayed  for  a  season,  but  its  course  is  onward  and  its  victory 
is  certain." 

The  Northern  American  Convention,  meeting  before 
that  of  the  Republicans,  nominated  Mr.  Banks,  who  de- 
clined the  position ;  he  had  been  very  active  in  securing 
the  Republican  nomination  for  Fremont,  and  to  him  the 
anti-slavery  American  support  was  transferred. 

Side  by  side  with  the  presidential  campaign  went  on 
the  struggle  in  Kansas.  The  Free-state  settlers,  disown- 
ing the  pro-slavery  legislature,  organized  under  a  Free- 
state  constitution,  and  chose  a  governor  of  their  own 
whose  authority  was  only  nominal.  The  purpose  of  the 
Administration  was  to  have  its  territorial  governor  a 
Northern  Democrat,  but  presence  on  the  scene  of  action 
had  a  tendency  to  convert  each  governor  to  the  Free-state 
side.  So  it  had  been  with  Governor  Reder;  his  suc- 
cessor, Wilson  Shannon,  was  unstable  iu  habits  and  char- 
acter, and  wavered  between  the  parties.  The  scandal  of 
his  administration,  and  of  the  anarchic  state  of  affairs, 
was  too  heavy  to  be  carried  by  the  Administration  in  the 


THE   FEEMONT   CAMPAIGN.  153 

face  of  the  coming  elections,  and  with  the  great  state  of 
Pennsylvania  hanging  doubtf nl.  As  Shannon's  successor 
the  President  appointed,  perhaps  at  Mr.  Buchanan's  sug- 
gestion, JohnW.  Geary,  a  Pennsylvanian  of  good  character 
and  ability.  Following  his  private  instructions,  he  did  not 
force  matters  to  extremity  with  the  Free-state  men,  and 
some  degree  of  temporary  pacification  ensued.  The 
pro-slavery  legislature  was  sustained  by  the  Federal 
territorial  court,  under  the  presidency  of  Chief-Justice 
Lecompte,  and  the  Free-state  leaders  had  been  judicially 
harassed,  while  the  lawless  ruffianism  of  their  enemies 
went  unpunished.  In  September,  the  Repuhlican  had  for 
some  time  a  standing  paragraph  in  italics:  "  Keep  it  be- 
fore the  people  that  to  this  day  no  man  in  Kansas  has 
ever  been  punished  by  law  for  offenses  committed  against 
members  of  the  Free-state  party, —  not  one  ! "  The  facts 
in  Kansas  were  too  strong  for  many  men  whose  theories 
had  made  them  adverse  to  the  Republican  movement. 
Thus,  a  prominent  Conservative  Whig,  Reuben  A.  Chap- 
man, of  Springfield,  afterward  chief-justice  of  the  state, 
wrote  in  September  to  the  Boston  Advertiser  to  disclaim 
a  participation  assigned  him  in  a  meeting  of  the  Fillmore 
party  —  a  party  which  was  appealing  not  without  some 
success  to  the  old  "Whigs.  Mr.  Chapman  expressed  un- 
mitigated dislike  for  the  "Free-soil  agitators  of  the 
North."  But  he  saw  in  the  American  party  a  sectarian 
and  proscriptive  organization;  while  as  to  the  Kansas 
legislature  '^  every  intelligent  man  and  every  lawyer 
know  that  such  a  government  has  no  legality."  A  study 
of  its  statute-book  had  mightily  wrought  upon  the  Massa- 
chusetts lawyer.  "I  have  been  amazed  that  any  body 
of  men  could  be  collected  from  any  quarter,  without  rob- 
bing the  gallows  and  the  penitentiaries,  who  could  enact 
laws  so  atrocious."  The  Democratic  policy,  he  concludes, 
is  dictated  by  a  purpose  to  make  Kansas  a  slave  state  at 


154     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

whatever  cost  of  violence  or  fraud;  that  conservative 
and  national  party  for  which  he  longs  can  come  only 
when  the  Democracy  has  been  buried ;  and  Fremont  he 
esteems  not  an  unsafe  man  for  President. 

The  presidential  struggle  was  doubtful  until  the  Octo- 
ber election ;  then  the  scales  were  seen  to  incline  to  the 
Democracy.  Pennsylvania  was  carried  for  the  Buchanan 
ticket  over  a  coalition  between  the  Fremont  and  Fillmore 
men,  but  by  a  majority  so  narrow  that  the  result  in 
November  was  by  no  means  sure.  The  Republicans  had 
been  hopeful  to  the  last  of  winning  the  state,  but  there, 
and  in  Indiana,  the  Democrats  lavished  money  in  bribery, 
while  the  Republican  party  was  young,  virtuous,  and 
poor.  Fillmore  lost  ground:  his  friends  fell  off  to  one 
or  the  other  of  the  two  candidates  who  represented  an 
idea.  In  the  Springfield  congressional  district  (then 
the  tenth)  the  Democrats,  the  old  Whigs,  and  the  Fill- 
more Americans,  all  united  on  a  congressional  and 
county  ticket  against  the  Republicans.  So  it  goes  all 
over  the  country,  said  the  Republican  (October  10) :  "  The 
debris  of  all  the  old  parties,  the  office-holders,  the  old 
hunkers,  the  weak,  wicked,  and  old-womanish,  are  hud- 
dling together  to  make  a  last  effort  to  avert  the  im- 
pending storm,  and  save  themselves  and  the  slave  power 
from  overthrow."  That  power  was  beginning  to  loudly 
threaten  to  break  the  Union  if  it  could  not  rule  it.  In 
Virginia  the  election  turned  on  the  question  whether  if 
Fremont  was  elected  secession  should  follow:  Henry 
A.  Wise  leading  the  Democratic  and  disunion  party, 
and  John  M.  Botts  the  Unionists, —  himself  for  Fill- 
more but  not  unfriendly  to  Fremont.  The  Repuhlican 
pointed  out  (August  4)  that  while  all  Southern  Dis- 
unionists  were  for  Buchanan,  the  few  Abolition  Disunion- 
ists  at  the  North  —  Phillips,  Pilsbury,  and  their  asso- 
ciates— were  all  against  Fremont,  because  he  represented 


THE   FREMONT   CAMPAIGN.  155 

a  constitutional  opposition  to  slavery,  which  was  unfavor- 
able to  their  war  on  the  constitution.  The  Southern 
threats  of  disunion  the  Republican  treated  as  insincere, 
and  meant  only  to  frighten  the  North  into  submission ;  in 
which  view  it  illustrated  its  characteristic  insensibility  to 
panic,  which  led  it  sometimes  to  underrate  real  dangers. 
But  iu  truth  the  South  had  so  often  cried  disunion  that 
most  people  at  the  North  had  little  belief  in.  its  sincerity. 
In  state  politics  the  American  party  remained  a  stum- 
bling-block. In  July  their  convention  in  a  tumultuous 
session  renominated  Governor  Gardner,  who  was  as  yet 
non-committal  between  Fremont  and  Fillmore,  though 
the  FiUmore  men  seceded  from  the  convention  after  his 
nomination.  The  remnants  of  Whiggery  met  and  nomi- 
nated Luther  V.  Bell  for  governor,  and  approved  Fillmore 
for  President.  The  Republican  convention  was  not  called 
by  the  representatives  of  the  last  yeai''s  party,  but,  like 
that,  was  summoned  from  independent  sources.  It  was 
proposed  that  Governor  Gardner  be  made  its  candidate, 
and  this  course  was  urged  in  the  convention  by  Banks 
and  Wilson,  the  latter  saying  that  the  Republicans  could 
afford  to  be  liberal  in  dealing  with  an  expiring  and 
substantially  defunct  organization.  The  Republican's 
grounds  of  opposition  to  Gardner  were  thus  summed  up 
(September  15) : 

"  He  is  a  positive  man  and  has  made  a  positive  administra- 
tion. No  administration  in  this  state  for  ten  years  has  been  so 
full  of  important  schemes  and  important  results  as  this  [Ms  two 
annual  terms] .  None  has  so  swollen  the  expenses  of  the  state. 
His  vetoes  of  important  measures,  involving  high  questions  of 
principle  and  state  poUcy ;  the  creation  of  numerous  unneces- 
sary oflB^ces  for  the  multiplication  of  executive  patronage  and 
personal  retainers ;  his  active  interference  in  the  pecuhar 
province  of  the  legislature  ;  his  fatal  opposition  to  the  proposi- 
tion for  an  appropriation  for  the  rehef  of  our  feUow-citizens  ui 


156     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

Kansas  at  a  time  when  such  an  appropriation  would  have  been 
an  immense  benefit  to  the  cause  of  free  Kansas ;  the  oveniding 
of  an  express  constitutional  provision  to  make  a  new  batch  of 
executive  appointments, — these,  with  other  corresponding  feat- 
ures of  his  government,  unite  to  make  it  the  most  extravagant 
and  corrupt  which  this  commonwealth  has  ever  experienced, 
and  have  established  issues  of  state  policy  which  can  only  be 
kept  out  of  the  canvass  by  keeping  him  out."  The  Repub- 
hcans,  it  concludes,  may  perhaps  make  no  state  nominations, — 
not  the  highest  coui'se  to  pursue,  but  not  essentially  wrong, 
as  would  be  the  nomination  of  Gardner. 

The  convention  (September  16)  deliberated  whether  to 
accept  Gardner,  to  nominate  Charles  Sumner  for  gov- 
ernor, or  to  refrain  from  nominating ;  and  the  latter 
course  was  adopted  by  a  large  majority.  This  signified 
that  Gardner's  election  as  an  American  was  to  be  allowed, 
rather  than  to  risk  the  alienation  of  American  votes  from 
Fremont.  A  union  with  that  party  upon  an  electoral 
ticket  was  agreed  on,  and  provision  made  for  an  agree- 
ment on  congressional  and  local  nominations. 

In  the  tenth  district  Dr.  Chaffee  received  a  renomina- 
tion  from  the  Republicans  and  Fremont  Americans ;  all 
the  other  parties  uniting  on  W.  A.  Fowler.  The  eleventh 
district,  including  Berkshire  and  a  westward  strip  from 
the  river  counties,  became  the  scene  of  a  contest  into 
which  Mr.  Bowles  threw  himself  as  heartily  as  into  any 
of  the  many  battles  of  his  life.  The  Republican  candi- 
date was  Henry  L.  Dawes.  Rev.  Mark  Trafton,  chosen 
two  years  before  as  a  Know-nothing,  and  a  rival  of  Mr. 
Dawes  in  the  '^Fremont  Union"  Convention,  took  the 
field  as  an  independent  candidate,  while  the  Democrats 
had  a  popular  nominee  in  Dr.  Weston.  Mr.  Bowles  had 
become  acquainted  with  Mr.  Dawes  when  the  latter  wrote 
for  him  a  series  of  letters  from  the  legislature,  about 
the  year  1852,  and  the  foundation  had  been  laid  for  a 


THE   FEEMONT   CAMPAIGN.  157 

life-long  friendship.  He  was  deeply  interested  in  Mr. 
Dawes's  success.  His  letters,  given  in  the  next  chap- 
ter, will  illustrate  the  keenness  of  his  interest,  and  the 
thoroughness  of  the  electioneering  work  in  which  he  was 
the  chief  organizer  and  inspirer.  Dr.  Holland,  his  effi- 
cient co-worker  in  the  general  contest,  although  habitu- 
ally not  active  in  political  management,  took  an  energetic 
part  in  the  canvass  for  Mr.  Dawes ;  and  on  the  Satui'day 
before  the  election  visited  every  one  of  the  Hampden 
county  towns  in  the  eleventh  district,  to  give  the  last 
word  of  encouragement  and  exhortation  to  Dawes's 
friends. 

Never  had  a  party  approached  an  election  in  a  nobler 
mood  than  did  the  Republican  party  in  1856 — never 
afterward  did  it  rise  to  a  grander  spirit,  save  when 
with  a  fervent  and  solemn  resolution,  wrought  out  in 
four  years  of  war,  it  reelected  Abraham  Lincoln  in  1864. 
The  RepuhUcan''s  editorials  on  the  eve  of  the  decisive 
day  were  filled  with  the  high  spirit  of  the  time.  They 
rose  above  passion, — they  read  events  with  that  broad 
and  clear  view  to  which  men  of  disciplined  mind  and 
high  purpose  are  lifted  by  an  emergency.  Thus  the  paper 
spoke  (Nov.  1)  of  the  Republican  party : 

"It  is  a  vital  party.  At  its  heart  bums  a  great  truth,  of 
which  each  member  feels  the  thiill,  and  to  which  each  nerve 
and  filament  responds.  It  is  the  party  of  the  country,  and  it 
holds  within  itself  that  principle  by  which  this  Union  can  alone 
be  perpetuated  —  the  true  democratic  principle.  If  the  princi- 
]ple  upon  which  this  party  is  estabhshed  do  not  prevail,  then 
the  days  of  this  confederacy  are  numbered  ;  for  slavery  is  not 
right,  slave  inile  is  not  right,  the  whole  pohcy  growing  out  of 
wrong  is  wrong,  and  a  government  which  recognizes  wrong  as 
the  controUing  force  within  it  fosters  the  seeds  of  its  own  abso- 
lute and  inevitable  dissolution.  The  great  pohtical  sea  is 
covered  with  the  floating  fragments  of  defunct  organizations. 


158     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

Disappointed  leaders  are  clinging  with  a  death-grapple  to  the 
wrecks,  and  many  of  their  crews,  bound  to  them  by  ties  of 
interest,  or  borne  to  their  side  by  an  impulse  of  not  ignoble 
chivalry,  cling  with  them,  determined  to  save  something  or  go 
down  together.  Some  chng  to  the  wreck  of  the  old  Whig 
ship.  A  crowd  still  tumble  among  the  frail  timbers  of  Know- 
nothingism.  A  still  greater  crowd  sail  with  the  piratical  craft 
of  modern  Democracy,  unaware  of  her  crazy  condition,  and 
unthinking  that  in  the  next  rough  sea  she  must  go  down  even 
if  mutiny  on  board  should  not  break  out  before  the  storm 
comes  on.  It  is  amidst  this  turmoil  of  dissolution,  and  the 
beating  of  governmental  pohcy  against  the  foundation  stones 
of  the  Repubhc,  that  the  Repubhcan  timbers  have  been  laid, 
and  the  stanch  bark  launched  upon  the  sea. 

"  Who  form  the  strength  of  this  party  ?  Precisely  those  who 
would  most  naturally  be  expected  to, —  the  great  middling- 
interest  class.  The  highest  class,  aristocratically  associated  and 
affihated,  timid,  afraid  of  change,  and  holding  in  their  hands 
the  sensitive  cords  of  commerce ;  and  the  lowest  class,  igno- 
rant, deceived  with  a  name,  fed  by  the  rich  man's  money  and 
led  by  the  rich  man's  finger  —  these  are  the  forces  arrayed 
against  RepubUcanism  as  a  whole.  The  horde  of  office-holders 
and  office-seekers,  and  the  slave  interest,  these  are  what  the 
party  serves.  Those  who  work  with  their  own  hands,  who  hve 
and  act  independently,  who  hold  the  stakes  of  home  and  fam- 
ily, of  farm  and  workshop,  of  education  and  freedom  —  these 
as  a  mass  are  enrolled  in  the  Repubhcan  ranks.  They  form  the 
very  heart  of  the  nation,  as  opposed  to  the  two  extremes  of 
aristocracy  and  ignorance,  and  their  wiU  and  word  cannot  be 
disregarded." 

On  the  morning  of  the  election  (November  4),  the  situ- 
ation was  thus  reviewed : 

''  The  real  abstract  question  at  issue  between  the  two  parties 
is,  whether  Congress  shall  control  the  destinies  of  the  territo- 
ries, and  dedicate  them  as  of  old  to  freedom,  or  whether  they 
shall  be  left  for  bitter  and  bloody  struggles  between  the  settlers, 


THE   FKEMONT   CAMPAIGN.  159 

like  those  which,  in  Kansas  now  shock  the  moral  sense  of  civili- 
zation everywhere.  Practically  the  question  is  whether  the 
influence  of  the  national  government  shall  be  used  to  extend 
slavery,  and  aggregate  its  pohtical  power,  or  to  limit  its  bounds 
and  weaken  its  hold  over  the  pohtics,  the  business,  and  the 
rehgion  of  the  nation.  Were  the  issue  thus  plainly  known  of 
all  men,  there  would  be  no  dispute  of  the  result.  .  .  .  The  Amer- 
ican party  stepped  in  at  an  inopportune  moment,  overwhelmed 
the  true  issue  before  the  coimtiy,  and  turned  aside  the  minds 
of  many  men  by  the  gUttering  success  which  it  momentarily 
won.  And  if  the  Republican  party  faUs  to-day  to  inaugurate 
that  revolution  iu  the  national  government, —  which  must  come 
ere  this  generation  passes  away,  or  the  government  itself  per- 
ishes,—  the  responsibihty  cannot  be  escaped  by  the  American 
organization.  To  its  door  must  the  defeat  of  John  C.  Fremont 
and  the  election  of  James  Buchanan  be  laid.  'By  implanting 
in  many  minds  a  weak  substitution  for  the  strongest  issue,  and 
by  keeping  temporarily  in  the  Democratic  ranks  many  who  but 
for  their  opposition  to  Americanism  would  have  rallied  around 
the  Republican  standard,  it  has  given  fresh  strength  to  the 
Democracy,  and  enabled  them  to  contest  this  election  with  a 
fair  prospect  of  success.  .  .  .  The  result  of  the  struggle  is  in 
great  doubt,  and  the  eagles  of  victoiy  are  as  likely,  perhaps, 
to  perch  on  the  one  side  as  on  the  other,  to-morrow  morning.  Of 
the  two  contestants,  the  Repubhcans  can  alone  afford  to  be 
beaten.  With  the  Democracy,  defeat  is  destruction.  The 
party  is  only  held  together  by  its  aUiance  with  the  national 
treasury,  and  the  slave-holder.  Separated  from  one,  it  becomes 
useless  to  the  other,  and  its  power  is  gone.  But  a  reverse 
cannot  break  the  Repubhcan  column.  It  has  an  enduring 
vitahty  in  its  principles,  and  a  glorious  destiny,  as  sure  as  the 
Repubhc  has  an  existence.  Whether  it  enters  upon  the  affirm- 
ative exercise  of  its  mission  now,  or  four  years  hence,  is  to 
aU  seeming  the  only  question  of  to-day.  Time  will  only  vindi- 
cate its  tnithfulness,  its  necessity,  and  its  strength.  It  can 
afford  to  wait,  if  the  countiy  and  the  world  can  afford  to  have 
it.  But  the  countiy  cannot  afford  to  wait  for  its  healing,  peace- 
ful mission,  and  though  we  look  not  upon  the  day's  struggle 


160     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

with  confidence  of  victoiy,  we  await  its  result  with  a  buoyant 
hope  that  the  day  and  the  hour  of  redemption  have  come." 

The  next  morning's  tidings  were  of  defeat.  The  states 
on  which  the  result  hung — Pennsylvania  and  Indiana — 
had  voted  for  Buchanan.  New  England  was  solid  for 
freedom ;  New  York  gave  its  vote  to  Fremont ;  so  did 
Illinois  and  most  of  the  states  of  the  great  West.  Mas- 
sachusetts had  given  Fremont  a  majority  of  two  to  one 
over  both  his  opponents.  But  the  next  national  admin- 
istration was  to  be  Democratic. 

The  Republican  in  the  same  issue  that  told  the  first 
sharp  news  of  the  defeat  thus  addressed  itself  to  the 
future : 

''  The  sturdy  hickory  saphng,  bent  to  the  ground  by  the 
incumbent  snows,  snaps  back  to  its  thrifty  altitude  when  the 
jar  of  a  passing  host  removes  the  load.  So  the  great  party 
of  freedom,  pressed  down  and  chilled  beneath  the  accumu- 
lations of  defeat,  with  firm  roots  and  well-knit  fibers,  springs 
backward,  as  the  great  results  of  the  election  sweep  by.  It  has 
taken  its  position  for  1860, —  stronger  to-day  than  ever  before." 

Governor  Gardner's  reelection  was  a  matter  of  course  : 
he  fell  about  13,000  behind  Fremont's  vote.  The  tenth 
district  sent  back  Dr.  Chaffee  by  6000  majority  ;  and  in 
the  eleventh,  Mr.  Dawes  was  nearly  3000  votes  ahead  of 
each  of  his  rivals. 

The  Republican  (November  8)  laid  stress  on  the  power 
and  responsibility  of  the  Republican  party,  in  its  capacity 
of  a  minority  in  the  government ;  and  thus  enforced  one 
lesson  of  the  defeat. 

"  We  are  beaten  by  the  ignorance  of  the  people.  The  excel- 
lent common-school  systems  of  the  New  England  states  and 
New  York  have  given  those  states  to  Fremont.  In  every  sec- 
tion of  those  states  where  a  great  mass  of  ignorance  existed. 


THE   FREMONT   CAMPAIGN.  161 

the  votes  showed  that  Buchanan  was  in  advance.  Pennsyl- 
vania, with  no  common-school  system  worthy  of  the  name, 
New  Jersey,  notoriously  behind  the  times  in  aU  matters  per- 
taining to  popular  education,  Indiana,  with  its  large  settlements 
from  the  South  of  individuals  to  whom  common  schools  are 
entire  strangers, —  these  have  gone  for  Buchanan.  The  pubhc 
mind  is  thoroughly  to  be  educated,  the  pubhc  heart  to  be 
Christianized,  before  they  yield  to  the  claims  of  justice  and 
right,  and  before  they  wiU  comprehend  and  rationally  and  con- 
scientiously decide  upon  the  issues  before  them." 


Vol.  I.— 11 


CHAPTER    XVI. 
Letters:  1851-1856. 

THIS  chapter  might  have  its  title  in  the  form  of  a 
stage  direction :  "  Enter  Sam  Bowles."  For  in  this 
he  first  speaks  freely  and  at  length  in  his  own  person. 
In  selecting  these  letters,  the  aim  has  been  to  show  him 
in  his  every-day  guise,  just  as  he  appeared  to  his  friends. 
Some  of  the  letters  are  slight  and  even  tri^dal  in  their 
contents, — they  are  given  as  the  best  practicable  repre- 
sentation of  the  lighter  moods,  which  have  perhaps  as 
much  of  human  interest  as  the  hours  of  graver  cares 
and  conflicts. 

To  Charles  Allen,  of  Greenfield. 

Springfield,  June  10,  1851. 

Were  you  ever  in  love,  fortune  favoring,  smiles  a  plenty,  and 
everything  considered  siu-e,  when  to  the  one  great  question  of 
life  you  got  an  imexpected  and  bewildering  no  ?  Or,  as  this 
is  hardly  a  supposable  case  with  so  fresh  and  buoyant  a  young 
gentleman,  did  you  ever  get  a  shower-bath  when  you  least  of 
aU  expected  it  and  were  least  of  ah  prepared  for  it  *? 

If  so,  if  either,  but  especially  the  first,  you  may  perhaps 
'' phansy  my  pheelinks."  I  am  dished, —  can't  go  a  fishing, — 
must  stay  at  home, —  disappoint  myself,  disappoint  my  friends, 
and  a'  that.  Well,  it's  always  so.  I'm  the  poor  victim  of  the 
accidents  and  incidents  of  a  daily  newspaper.  This  morning 
our  pressman  broke  down,  the  foreman  must  take  his  place, 

162 


letters:    1851-1856.  163 

and  I  must  stay  to  make  up  deficiencies  and  di'ill  all  hands. 
Besides,  I  am  wounded  in  my  own  household.  My  wife's  Irish 
girl,  who  takes  care  of  the  baby,  took  it  into  her  head,  as  Irish 
girls  will,  to  take  herself  off  last  night,  and  in  j)ui-suance  of  the 
love-honor-and-obey  contract,  I  ought  to  help  my  wife  out  of 
the  scrape.  Moreover, — but  I  won't  rehearse  the  long-drawn 
tale  of  sorrows, — "  the  sorrows  of  Werther  "  were  no  touch  to 
them.  Suffice  it,  that  misfoi-tunes  never  come  singly,  and  I'm 
their  victim.  I  don't  care  for  myself,  for  I  fancy  that  ten  years 
of  this  galley-slave's  life  has  used  me  to  disappointment  and 
self-denial  of  this  kind,  but  you,  whom  I  have  troubled,  bothered, 
and  promised  so  much, — bah,  I  couldn't  look  you  in  the  face. 
I  feel  mean,  and  like  vowing  as  I  have  a  hundred  times  ah'eady 
in  my  editorial  life  that  I  never  will  attempt  to  go  away  again, 
or  make  an  engagement  to  go  away,  for  I  am  sui'e  to  have 
something  turn  up  and  disappoint  myself  and  my  friends. 

Now  forget  me  and  all  my  promises, — go  off  and  catch  your 
fish,  and  don't  ever  invite  me  to  come  to  Greenfield  again,  or  if 
you  do,  don't  beheve  me  when  I  tell  you  I'll  come.    It's  no  use. 
Thy  provoked  and  ashamed  friend, 

Sam'l  Bowles,  Jr. 

May  19, 1852. 

Have  you  any  recollection  of  one  Bowles  !  If  so,  give  me 
some  evidence  of  it.  Burnish  up  your  memory,  and  when 
found  make  a  note  of  him  for  the  benefit  of  future  generations. 

Are  you  dead  or  in  love  ?  Here  I've  been  sick  these  five 
weeks,  here  and  in  Brooklyn,  and  I  have  not  had  the  first  word 
of  condolence,  nor  the  first  trout  of  sjTupathy,  from  you.  Why, 
man,  where's  your  humanity  ?  You  would  not  treat  a  nigger 
so  bad,  especially  if  he  was  a  voter  iu  Frankhn  county.  Come 
and  see  me,  write  me,  blow  me  up,  traduce  me,  insult  me,  re- 
view me  a  la  Eugene  Batchelder,  anything  in  short  —  but  don't 
forget  me. 

Rode  out  to-day  for  the  first  time  since  my  relapse  into  the 
Slough  of  Despond,  Getting  better  slow,  but  I  trust  sure.  Am 
as  weak  as  the  mother  of  six  new  kittens,  and  am 

Yours  truly. 


164     THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

November  20,  1854. 
You  seem  to  have  a  somewhat  similar  idea  of  the  use  of 
newspapers  to  that  one  of  the  old  fathers  had  of  language.  He 
said  it  was  an  invention  to  conceal  thought.  You  think  news- 
papers machines  to  suppress  information.  You  teU  me  lots 
of  good  news,  and  then  put  on  the  stopper  with  "  don't  you 
print ! "  So  I  hold  in,  and  have  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  the 
news  trotted  out  in  Boston,  Greenfield,  and  all  along  shore, 
and  of  hearing  it  talked  about  in  great  detail  by  my  friends, 
who  wonder  at  the  stupidity  of  the  Bepublican  in  not  printing. 
Thanks  to  Chapman  and  my  imagination,*  I  have  done,  I  hope, 
partial  justice  to  your  Know-nothing  row,  but  not  until  it  was 
old  news — confound  you. 

February  22,  1855. 

I  would  not  on  any  account  abridge  the  freedom  with  which 
you  may  be  pleased  to  write  me  privately,  and  I  will  not  here- 
after use  any  of  your  private  correspondence  for  the  benefit 
of  the  world  at  large,  except  by  your  expressly  obtained  per- 
mission. 

Judge  Loring's  removal  I  look  upon  as  a  decided  piece  of 
conservative  legislation.  If  it  be  not  done,  the  advocates  of 
an  elective  judiciary  for  short  terms  will  double  instanter  in 
Massachusetts,  and  our  judiciary  will  be  placed  where  every 
passing  popular  breeze  can  reach  them,  which  I  would  dejjre- 
cate  as  much  as  you.  Nor  can  I  admit  the  distinction  you 
make  between  morals  and  law.  It  seems  to  me  that  they  pos- 
sess intimate  connection  and  dependency ;  that  every  law,  in  a 
country  like  ours,  can  really  be  no  law,  certainly  no  wise  or 
useful  law,  unless  grounded  in  the  moral  convictions  of  the 
people.  The  laws  of  the  country  are  the  mere  exponents  of  the 
virtue^ and  morahty  of  its  people.  That  is  a  phase  of  the  ques- 
tion which  I  would  hke  to  discuss. 

*  The  phrase  "thanks  to  my  imagination"  may  perhaps  refer  to  an  occa- 
sional practice  of  Mr.  Bowles  when  he  did  not  feel  at  liberty  to  relate  as 
fact  what  had  been  communicated  to  him,  yet  wanted  to  give  the  public  an 
inkling  of  it,  and  would  write  "  We  surmise,"  "we  imagine,"  or  "  we  pre- 
dict" that  so-and-so  is  the  case. 


letters:    1851-1856.  165 

I  am  just  fi'om  a  two  days'  visit  to  Norwich,  Ct.,  with  Mrs. 
B. ;  and  when  I  next  come  to  Greenfield  —  if  that  ever  is  —  I 
shall  bring  her  with  me. 

To  his  wife,  while  reporting  the  Know-nothing  Council 
in  June,  1855,  Mr.  Bowles  writes  : 

Philadelphia,  Wednesday. 

Your  letter  of  yesterday  came  this  afternoon,  and  rejoiced 
me  by  its  various  good  news.  I  continue  well,  but  feel  lazy 
and  stupid,  and  have  loafed  about  quietly  aU  day,  accomplish- 
ing nothing  as  yet  but  a  letter  to  the  Tribune.  I  am  going  to 
stir  about  more  to-morrow,  and  see  the  various  interesting 
sights  of  this  beautiful  city.  You  would  be  veiy  much  pleased 
to  be  here  with  me,  and  I  should  be  very  pleased  to  have  you. 
What  a  pity  we  can't  both  be  pleased!  Philadelphia  would 
gratify  you  more  than  either  Boston  or  New  York.  The  streets 
are  so  much  neater,  are  so  regular,  and  bear  such  a  finished 
look  in  their  stores  and  dwellings,  and  the  stores  are  the  most 
magnificent  in  the  country.  The  great  number  of  large  and 
elegant  stores  is  surprising.  Broadway  does  not  compare  in 
this  respect  Avith  Chestnut  street.  .  .  .  The  ladies  get  them- 
selves up  here  on  a  magnificent  scale,  and  the  number  of  beau- 
tiful women  magnificently  dressed  who  may  be  seen  up  and 
down  the  great  street  —  Chestnut  —  is  beyond  what  any  other 
city  can  furnish.  They  are  all  arrayed  in  their  summer  cos- 
tumes, and  some  of  these  would  quite  *'stun"  oui*  country 
folks  if  displayed  on  Main  or  Maple  St.  How  long  I  shall  stay 
here  is  uncertain.  If  the  Tribune  people  desire  it,  I  may  stay 
through  the  farce,  for  such  it  is  getting  to  be.  I  shall  consult 
my  own  ease  and  comfort  about  it  very  largely. 

Give  my  love  to  A ,  and  congratulate  her  for  me  on  her 

new  step  forward.  It  is  a  happy  day  in  any  one's  fife  that 
records  such  a  step, —  that  finds  the  heart  fitted  to  lay  hold 
on  eternal  life.  Heigh-ho !  I  do  not  know  as  I  shall  ever 
get  to  such  a  pitch  of  goodness  and  right  feeling ;  and  yet 
I  should  be  unhappy  if  I  did  not  believe  I  should  ''  some 
time  or  other." 


166     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BO^TLiES. 

Kiss  the  ''  childer"  ;  remember  me  to  Mother,  Amelia,  and 
Hannah,  and  reserve  for  yourself  a  generous  share  of  all  the 
loving  and  husbandly  affection  which  the  subscriber  respect- 
fully places  at  your  disposal.  Write  me  often,  and,  remember, 
take  good  care  of  yourself.    You  can't  be  too  prudent. 

Philadelphia,  Friday  night. 

My  Dearest  Mrs.  Bowles:  Trusting  that  the  fact  that 
the  letter  due  from  you  to-day  did  not  come  does  not  augui- 
any  abatement  of  affection,  or  any  return  of  iU  health  (dii-e 
calamities  both  !),  I  proceed  to  make  my  daily  bulletin  :  pulse 
regular,  appetite  fair,  though  httle  duUed  now  by  a  pint  of 
strawben'ies  and  cream  and  several  mutton  chops ;  temper 
happy  "as  could  be  expected  under  the  circumstances,"  viz., 
absence  from  the  benignant  light  of  your  presence,  only  partly 
counterbalanced  by  two  glasses  of  "  fine  old  port,"  accom- 
plished with  the  aforesaid  mutton  chops  and  strawbeiTies ;  per- 
sonal appearance  as  bewitching  as  usual, —  fill  out  the  balance 
to  suit  yourself. 

Yesterday  was  quite  wann  —  to-day  is  cool  and  delightful. 
I  am  enjoying  myself  passably,  and  pohtics  in  a  quiet  way,  but 
am  impatient  to  be  off,  partly  because  people  are  beguming  to 
suspect  me  as  the  correspondent  of  the  Tribune,  which  is  not  so 
pleasant  as  an  incog.,  and  partly  because  I  have  had  enough  of 
it  for  play,  though  as  work  it  is  amusing  enough.  ...  I 
hope  affah's  continue  comfortable  at  home,  and  that  your 
strength  and  health  mend  together.  You  can  hardly  tell  what 
a  relief  it  would  be  to  me  to  have  you  well  and  strong  again. 
I  try  to  believe  that  what  is,  is  right,  unless  we  can  see  it  to  be 
the  result  of  some  negligence  or  imprudence  of  our  own.  .  . 
But  we  wiU  try  not  to  repine,  for  though  everything  is  not 
as  we  would  have  it,  still  ouj*  sources  of  happiness  are  above 
the  average  of  humanity  in  richness  and  deepness. 

Give  my  love  to  all,  including  the  rosy-cheeked  and  good- 
natured  Hannah  ;  kiss  the  babies, —  tell  A I  hope  the  new 

responsibilities  will  not  make  her  any  more  solemn  or  severe, — 
and  accept  yourself  what  a  wife  ought  to  have  from  her  affec- 
tionate, and  he  hopes  faithful,  husband. 


LETTEKS:    1851-1856.  167 

Philadelphia,  Monday  evening. 

Your  long  and  piously  disposed  letter  came  yesterday  morn- 
ing, and  had  to  answer  the  purpose  of  going  to  meeting,  as  I 
behave  it  did,  and  more  too.  For  though  I  staid  at  home,  and 
■wrote  a  long  letter  to  the  Tribune,  I  nevertheless  beheve  that 
your  kind  preaching  more  than  made  up  for  the  wickedness  of 
that  perfoiTuance,  which  is  more  than  I  could  say  of  the  dis- 
courses I  ordinaiily  get  of  a  Sunday.  The  subject  to  which 
you  allude  with  so  much  appropriate  earnestness  is  one  I  often 
think  of,  though,  as  you  are  aware,  rarely  if  ever  speak.  I 
have  not  much  faith  in  myself,  but  I  would  encourage  you  to 
go  forward  in  your  determination.  I  never  could  get  up  much 
interest  in  the  forms  of  devotion,  though  I  know  they  are  essen- 
tial— more,  however,  to  some  minds  than  to  others,  more  per- 
haps to  yours  than  to  mine.  The  essentials  of  manhness  and 
goodness,  of  justice  and  mercy,  I  put  first.  In  them  I  always 
feel  an  interest,  and  stiive,  though  at  a  distance,  to  follow.  I 
win  readily  join  in  such  simple  acts  of  rehgious  devotion  as  are 
consistent  with  my  feehngs  and  position,  if  you  desire  it,  in  the 
hope,  also,  that  it  may  prove  more  a  source  of  satisfaction  and 
improvement  than  I  have  found  before. 

I  am  detained  here  still,  but  expect  now  to  get  off  some 
time  to-morrow.  The  thickest  of  the  fight  is  now  on,  and  if 
it  comes  to  an  end  to-morrow  morning  I  shall  quit  immediately. 
I  am  impatient  to  return  home,  but  I  feel  that  I  am  greatly 
useful  to  myself  and  the  paper  by  remaining  here,  and  I  mean 
to  make  the  Tribune  pay  all  the  bills.  We  have  had  a  good 
deal  of  excitement  here,  and  much  fun.  I  have  made  some 
very  pleasant  and  very  valuable  acquaintances,  and  done  some 
good  to  the  right  side  of  the  political  questions  of  the  day,  and 
so  ought  to  feel  satisfied  that  I  came  on. 

To  Henry  L.  Dawes. 

August  6, 1855. 
.    .     .    I  put  into  my  paper  all  I  know  and  aU  I  feel  as  to 
pohtics.     I  have  an  abiding  faith  in  fusion,  and  don't  allow 
myself  to  be  disheartened  by  open  opposition,  lukewarm  friend- 
ship, or  timid  advocacy.    I  am  very  certain  it  has  got  to  come, 


168     THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

and  the  means  by  which  it  shall  be  achieved  are  of  httle  moment 
to  me,  so  that  they  succeed.  There  will  be  a  quarrel  in  the 
K.  N.  convention  to-morrow,  perhaps  a  spUt.  I  am  indifferent 
to  it.  It  cannot  put  off  the  end  long.  If  it  denies  fusion,  it 
will  IdU  itself,  as  the  Whigs  did  last  year.  I  confess  it  is  up- 
hill work  bringiag  people  together,  and  the  state  is  reapiag  in 
the  harvest  of  iU  feeling,  bitter  prejudices,  and  unconquerable 
aversions,  the  evils  of  Coahtionism,  Know-nothingism,  and 
hunker  Whiggery.  Thank  God,  I  do  not  feel  responsible  for 
either.  I  shall  keep  the  Mepublican  untrammeled  and  inde- 
pendent, doing  everything  it  can  for  fusion,  favoring  any 
proposition  that  looks  to  it,  and  denouncing  everybody  against 
it.  We  get  plenty  of  abuse  for  our  course,  and  myself  am  per- 
sonally and  weekly  denounced  and  vilified  in  the  Anti-fusion 
American  papers,  but  I  can  stand  it,  and  am  only  troubled  by 
the  reflection  that  it  may  inspire  me  with  the  ridiculous  idea 
that  I  am  an  important  individual,  and  breed  that  meanest  of 
aU  delusions,  a  pohtical  ambition. 

Everybody  is  holding  back  and  waiting  for  something  to  turn 
up.  If  fusion  does  come,  as  I  am  sure  it  will,  and  I  have  any 
influence  in  its  future  operations,  I  hope  to  remember  with 
effect  some  of  the  cowards  of  the  day. 

I  am  glad  the  agony  has  given  place  to  the  joys  of  maternity. 
I  am  glad  it  is  a  boy.  Boys  are  institutions.  They  have  a 
future,  a  positive  futiire.  Grirls  are  swallowed  up, — they  are 
an  appendage, —  a  necessary  appendage,  it  may  be,— probably 
they  are, —  but  still  they  are  appendages.  I  hope  the  boy  wiU 
live,  will  grow  up,  will  be  worthy  of  his  father  and  mother,  wiU 
inspire  in  them  hope  and  confidence  and  trust,  and  moreover 
that  he  won't  always  Uve  in  North  Adams,  so  long  as  there  are 
such  fine  places  as  Springfield  outside  of  it. 

And  so  hoping,  beheving,  and  trusting,  and  wishing  that  you 
may  so  hope,  beheve,  and  trust,  I  am  yours  truly 

To  Charles  Allen. 

September  11,  1855. 

Have  you  deserted  your  old  friends  *?  Or  are  you  not  recov- 
ered from  your  sea  voyage  to  Nantucket  ?    I  never  had  my 


LETTEKS:    1851-1856.  169 

promised  letters,  nor  have  I  learned  even  indirectly  the  ex- 
perience of  that  journey,  yet  I  have  a  severe  suspicion  that  it 
was  a  bad  failm*e.  We  have  sad  accounts  of  the  sickness  of 
yom'  brother's  wife.     How  is  she  ? 

I  see  old  Aiken  is  on  the  side  of  the  righteous,  while  you 
and  George  T.  remain  out  in  the  cold  for  the  present.  WeU, 
the  gaUery  has  its  advantages,  but  I  am  not  permitted  to  enjoy 
them  if  I  would,  and  I  would  not  if  I  could.  I  have  an  abid- 
ing faith  that  out  of  the  present  chaos  of  pohtical  debauchery 
we  shall  get  some  decent  pohtics  by  and  bye.  May  be  not  this 
year,  but  sooner  or  later.  And  I  can  afford  to  wait,  since  I 
already  have  aU  the  reward  I  seek, — the  consciousness  of  being 
right,  making  a  mark,  and  securing  an  enviable  position  for 
the  Eepublican. 

But  if  you  are  in  the  land  of  the  Hving,  shout,  if  but  to  say 
*'  damn." 

To  H.  L.  Dawes. 

October  10,  1855. 

Croak,  croak,  croak!  Why  the  devil  can't  Berkshire  do 
something  besides  ?  Let  those  who  are  right  go  to  work. 
The  K.  N's  are  playing  the  brag  and  lying  game  most  awfully. 
That  story  you  mention  is  all  a  he.  There  never  was  any 
arrangement  about  bolting  at  Worcester  on  the  part  of  the  Re- 
pubUcans,  that  I  know  or  heard  of,  and  I  certainly  shoidd  know 
it  if  there  had  been. 

We  shaU  elect  Rockwell.  If  not,  I  shall  invite  the  foreign 
missionary  society  to  look  into  Massachusetts.  How  many 
speeches  may  I  promise  you  for  in  this  region  dm-ing  the  three 
weeks  preceding  election  ? 

If  there  had  been  such  a  bolt  as  the  K.  N.  story  says  the 
RepubUcans  threatened  at  Worcester,  it  was  all  right  and  justi- 
fiable. Gardner's  speech  proves  this.  And  though  there  was 
no  concert,  no  arrangement,  no  nothing  except  individual 
opinion  that  such  must  result  if  Gardner  was  forced  upon  the 
convention, —  a  bolt  was  justifiable  and  proper  and  necessary, 
if  it  could  be  useful.  That  is  the  only  question  —  and  I  am 
prepared  to  accept  any  issue  the  enemy  choose  to  make  on  this 
question.    Gardner  sustains  us  aU.    I  will  not  deny  there  would 


170     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

have  been  a  bolt.  I  only  deny  that  any  preparations  were 
made  for  one. 

Wilson  says  we  are  sure  to  carry  the  state.  I  do  not  see  how 
any  other  result  is  possible.  The  partisans  of  Gardner  do  not 
know  of  what  they  speak.  They  are  stronger  now  than  they 
will  be  at  any  future  day.  The  K.  N's  are  all  broken  up.  In 
a  few  places  like  Amherst,  Palmer,  and  North  Adams, —  where 
courageous  villains  and  timid  saints  dwell, — they  are  strong, 
but  elsewhere  I  cannot  find  they  have  any  power  worth  fear- 
ing. They  are  weak  in  character,  bankrupt  in  respectabCity, 
rotten  in  morals,  and  can  only  succeed  by  frightening  other 
people.  With  such  a  cause  as  oui's,  we  shall  only  be  beaten  by 
our  own  inaction,  want  of  confidence,  and  timidity.  The  heart 
of  Massachusetts  is  with  us.  The  head  will  be,  if  we  only  dare 
to  claim  it,  and  teach  it.  Hampshire  county  will  do  nobly,^ 
we  perhaps  badly,  through  rum.  The  Bepiiblican  says  no  more 
than  it  believes.  We  haven't  any  private  opinion.  The  can- 
vass is  changing  daily,  and  the  changes  are  all  on  our  side  and 
in  our  favor.  Do,  for  God's  sake,  stop  this  croaking  and  do 
sometliing  up  in  Berkshire.  Eastern  Massachusetts  is  winning 
all  the  laurels.  We  shall  beat  if  we  will.  We  can  conquer 
if  we  will  deserve  to.  Five  such  Whigs  as  John  Z.  Goodrich 
and  five  such  Free-soil  Know-nothings  as  Wilson  would  give 
us  the  battle. 

I  am  weak  and  sinful  and  cross  enough,  anyway,  but  such 
epistles  as  yours  to-night,  after  all  day  chasing  cattle-shows 
and  buttonholing  every  second  man  on  poUtics,  make  me 
swear.  I  have  resolved  to  keep  cool  this  campaign.  I  shall  in 
my  paper,  thoroughly  so.  But  that  renders  more  necessary  a 
httle  private  explosion  now  and  then.  So  excuse  this.  I  don't 
know  all  that's  in  it.  I  won't  read  it  over.  Thank  you  for 
your  hquor  law  expose.  It  is  what  I  wanted,  only  stronger. 
I  am  not  clear  yet  where  or  when  to  use  it. 

To  Charles  Allen,  after  the  birth  and  death  of  a  child. 

November  20, 1855. 
It  is  over,  and  sadly  over.     ...     I  should  be  sorry  to  feel 
that  you  are  never  to  be  blessed  with  wife  and  children ;  with- 


letters:    1851-1856.  171 

out,  there  is  little  reaUy  worth  the  hving  for ;  but  I  pray  you 
and  youi-s  may  be  spared  the  agony  of  our  last  twenty-foui- 
hours.  Mrs.  Bowles  is  perhaps  less  comfortable  than  is  com- 
mon, but  with  good  fortune  she  will  mend  rapidly.  She  feels 
her  loss  terribly.  Though  a  disappointment,  it  is  a  small  mat- 
ter to  me,  only  as  it  affects  her. 


To  H.  L.  Baives. 

April  19,  1856. 
I  still  hve,  I  thank  you,  and  had  been  thinking  of  you  lately 
and  wondeiing  why,  since  I  heard  you  had  been  in  Boston,  you 
did  not  lay  over  a  train  and  see  your  Springfield  friends,  either 
going  or  returning.  Perhaps  you  took  warning  by  the  Bee. 
Indeed,  I  think  it  is  rather  dangerous  to  cultivate  my  friend- 
ship, and  I  shan't  blame  my  old  friends  if  they  are  a  trifle  shy. 
However,  thank  God,  there  is  a  future.  I  do  not  think  there 
was  a  purpose  beyond  crushing  me  out  in  the  Gardner  and 
Brewster  articles  in  the  Bee, — nothing  whatever.  The  Ameri- 
can paper  here  was  just  expiring,  when  the  two  came  up  this 
week,  and  wound  up  the  machine  again.  But  spite  to  the  Ee- 
piiblican  cannot  keep  it  up  long.  Newspapers  demand  health- 
ier food.    B fluttered  badly — was  it  not  a  good  hit  ?    That 

is  the  only  paragi'aph  I  am  really  proud  of  in  the  whole  con- 
troversy. There  are  no  laurels  to  be  won  in  such  fights.  One 
only  gets  diiiied.  I  aimed  only  to  show  my  indifference,  and 
point  out  the  sources  and  motives  of  the  assault.  This  last  I 
know  I  did,  spite  of  denials.  Did  you  see  the  Bee's  last  article  ? 
I  feel  well  enough  that  I  am  "  under  a  cloud";  that  even  those 
disposed  to  be  my  fi'iends  feel  that  there  was  more  or  less  of 
truth  in  the  Bee's  assaults  ;  that  my  rashness  makes  me  a  dan- 
gerous intimate  and  an  unsafe  leader.  But  I  bide  my  time.  I 
know  I  am  not  prudent  —  I  don't  want  to  be  —  but  I  know 
what  I  am  about.  I  know,  too,  my  motives,  and  I  am  not 
afraid  to  make  comparison  with  those  of  open  enemies  and  dis- 
trustful friends.  I  don't  wish  anybody  to  be  responsible  for 
me  or  my  paper.  The  more  thoroughly  independent  I  can 
make  it,  the  better  I  shall  be  satisfied,  and  the  more  really 


172     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

influential  and  prosperous  will  it  be.  But  I  do  not  feel  it  nec- 
essary to  vindicate  myself  to  you.     So  let  that  pass. 

Massachusetts  will  go  Republican  this  fall  anyhow,  though  it 
may  be  after  a  hard  and  nasty  fight.  I  shall  not  trouble  my- 
seLE  about  home  poUtics,  nor  make  any  particular  fresh  efforts 
at  conciliation.  My  ambition  fattened  last  year  in  caucusing 
and  management.  But  everything  looks  bright  outside.  If 
this  Fremont  movement  holds,  we  shall  sweep  the  country  be- 
yond peradventure.  We  shall  take  from  twenty  to  thirty  per 
cent,  of  the  Northern  Democrats,  and  come  in  flj^ing.  That's 
the  way  things  look  now.  The  secret  of  the  campaign  is  at 
Cincinnati  [the  Democratic  national  convention].  The  Repub- 
hcan  candidate  will  really  be  nominated  there.  My  letters 
from  Washington,  both  from  our  own  and  Western  members 
of  Congress,  are  very  encouraging.  Sam  Galloway  of  Ohio, 
just  returned  from  home,  says  the  Fremont  movement  is  going 
hke  prairie  fire  there,  taking  in  Americans  and  Republicans 
and  one-third  of  the  Democrats.  Stopping  at  Harrisburg,  as 
he  came  along,  he  found  the  fever  high  in  the  Pennsylvania 
legislature,  possessing  Americans  as  well  as  Repubheans,  and 
ten  or  twelve  of  the  Democratic  members,  who  looked  upon  him 
as  the  Moses  to  lead  them  out  of  captivity.  Galloway  is  him- 
self against  Fremont,  and  for  Judge  McLean, —  so  this  report 
is  impartial.  Fremont  is  thoroughly  with  us,  and  if  we  can 
win  with  him  we  must  put  him.  on  the  course,  for  victory  is 
indispensable  to  freedom.  Greeley  is  for  him.  The  other 
Tribune  people  rather  cool,  but  keeping  their  eyes  open.  Se- 
ward wants  to  be  the  candidate,  and  Dr.  Bailey  of  the  National 
Era  is  for  him,  content  to  wait  tiU  1860  for  a  victory.  But  that 
won't  do. 

What  friends  had  Mrs.  Mary  Hinman  Graves,  in  North 
Adams '?  Twenty  years  ago,  when  I  was  ten,  she  came,  a 
bride,  to  my  mother's  to  board,  and  I  remember  her  with  a 
great  deal  of  interest  and  affection.  I  wish  I  had  known  she 
was  dying  in  your  village.  But  I  had  not  even  heard  of  her 
for  many,  many  years. 

My  family  are  well, —  business  never  better, —  I  keep  cool  and 
grow  saucy ;  and  would  like  to  see  you. 


letters:    1851-185G.  173 

June  25,  1856. 

The  tunnel  trip  I'll  make.  The  other  and  longer  I  want  to, 
but  am  doubtful.  If  the  obstacles  to  Fremont's  election  can  be 
removed  within  a  few  days,  or  put  in  train  for  removal,  I 
shaU  feel  it  ahke  a  pleasure  and  a  duty  to  devote  myself  to 
saving  the  Union  for  the  season.  If  not,  I  shall  play  as  much 
as  I  can. 

I  think  the  chances  are  rather  against  my  accepting  the 
Tribune  offer,  yet  it  presents  so  many  inducements  that  I  shall 
not  decide  against  it  at  present.  It  woiild  take  me  to  Wash- 
ington as  my  home,  the  place  being  the  head  of  a  Washington 
editorial  and  correspondential  bureau  for  the  Tribune,  and  of 
course  one  of  much  responsibility  and  influence. 

To  Charles  Allen. 

August  26, 1856. 

.  .  .  There  is  a  gi'eat  pressui'e  on  our  folks  to  nominate 
Gardner,  or  set  up  nobody  against  him.  Clifford,  Banks,  and 
the  Boston  Atlas  are  in  it.  I  think  it  cannot  succeed.  K  it 
does,  Lawrence  will  be  elected  governor  by  Fremont  votes. 
The  only  difficulty  is,  there  is  not  a  candidate  on  whom  we  can 
command  a  union  of  the  Fremont  vote  against  Gardner, — none 
but  Sumner,  and  I  suppose  it  would  be  hard  to  get  him.  K  we 
could  get  him  to  stand,  everything  would  be  plain  sailing. 
Gardner  would  be  lapped  up  in  a  moment.  I  think,  too,  we 
could  easily  put  Davis  on  with  Sumner.  But  everything  is  at 
loose  ends.  The  fellows  are  putting  the  screws  to  me  to  go  for 
Gardner  ;  they  got  Dana  of  the  Tribune  to  beheve  that  opposi- 
tion to  Gardner  will  endanger  Sumner's  reelection,  and  he  has 
written  to  me  that  we  must  treat  with  the  devil  rather  than 
lose  that.  I  mention  this  to  show  how  they  are  managing. 
But  I  win  see  them  in  a  very  hot  place  before  I  wiU  support 
Gardner. 

September  17,  1856. 
Can't  you  come  down  over  Sunday?     Or  if  not,  then  next 
week  ?    I  have  much  to  say  to  you,  and  your  letter  provokes 


174     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

more.  Come,  and  let  us  cuss  and  discuss  these  political  antics, 
wMcli,  however,  have  a  deeper  meaning  than  you  attach  to 
them.  With  you,  I  shall  support  Dr.  BeU  as  the  best  man  ia 
nomination,  unless  some  other  man  is  in  the  field  with  whom 
there  may  be  a  chance  to  defeat  Gardner ;  and  not  only  sup- 
port him  by  my  vote,  but  urge  him  in  the  Bepuhlican.  And  I 
can  do  this  cheerfully  and  honestly.  I  am  glad,  too,  that  I  am 
not  a  Repubhcan  to  be  sold  out.  I  wish  there  were  more  of 
your  and  my  kind  of  Republicans  as  to  that.  And  yet  your 
denunciations  of  our  Free- soil  friends  are  not  altogether  equal 
and  exact  justice.  Some  of  the  most  determined  opponents  of 
Gardner's  nomination,  or  even  no  nomination,  were  old  coah- 
tion  Free-soilers, — Alvord  (who  was  perfectly  raving  on  the 
subject),  Erastus  Hopkins,  Rodney  French,  and  a  dozen  others 
I  might  name ;  while  Banks  and  Wilson  were  supported  for 
Gardner  by  some  of  the  most  old-fogy  and  conservative  Whigs, 
Homer  Bartlett,  Linus  Childs,  Ezra  Lincoln,  George  BHss, 
George  Dwight,  etc.,  who  aU  worked  for  Gardner,  and  used  as 
a  principal  argument  that  it  was  only  the  ultra  ''long-heel" 
Abohtionists  who  opposed  Gardner,  and  that  because  he  was 
conservative  (of  the  truth  !),  etc.  The  truth  is,  these  coahtions, 
bargains,  etc.,  are  incidental  to  the  destruction  of  the  old 
parties  and  the  reorganization  of  the  new.  You  see  them 
everywhere.  The  Whigs  are  "  selling  out "  to  the  FiUmore 
Americans,  the  meanest  of  the  breed,  and  vice  versa;  and  now 
the  Buchanan  and  Fillmore  parties,  each  of  themselves  fresh 
compounds  of  factions  of  old  organizations,  are  meditating  a 
grand  national  and  natural  bargain  and  sale  for  the  purpose 
of  defeating  Fremont ;  and  I  hope  it  wiU  succeed,  that  is,  in 
the  union  proposed,  for  it  is  legitimate  and  proper  and  might 
as  well  come  now  as  next  year.  You  and  I  never  lived  in  such 
a  time  as  this  before,  for  parties  have  been  regular  and  estab- 
lished aU  through  the  previous  day ;  but  the  history  of  the 
former  changing  period  —  182-1-32 — has  similar  pages  of  coali- 
tions, bargaining,  etc.  Every  man  must  be  his  own  judge  how 
far  he  wtU  engage  in  such  things.  When  done  with  decent 
men  and  to  secure  great  and  important  results  —  in  trimnphs  of 
principle  —  they  are  not  unworthy  of  any  man.     Though  I  saw 


LETTEKS:    1851-1856.  175 

at  Worcester  men  going'  in  for  Gardner,  because,  as  I  thought, 
it  would  help  them  to  certain  offices,  great  and  smaU,  I  met 
many  others  who  beheved  it  a  matter  of  patriotic  duty,  as 
necessary  and  important  to  the  great  object  of  defeating  Bu- 
chanan and  electing  Fremont;  who  took  Gardner  as  a  mere 
incident,  a  dose  of  medicine,  because  in  order  to  get  the  good 
results  they  must  take  it,  determined  and  expecting  to  get  rid 
of  him  next  year.  There  is  much  force  in  the  view  of  these 
men,  and  did  I  beheve  that  it  was  necessary,  as  they  affected  to, 
for  the  gi'eat  results,  I  should  at  least  acquiesce  quietly  iu  the 
adoption  of  Gardner,  though  I  never  could  vote  for  him.  I 
would  pursue  towards  him  the  pohcy  you  pursue  towards  poli- 
tics in  general.  But  I  do  not  believe  in  the  necessity  or  pohcy 
of  swallowing  Gardner,  at  least  to  any  further  extent  than  of 
making  no  nomination  as  a  party  against  him.  That  on  the 
whole  will  have  a  good  effect  in  certaia  states  on  the  presi- 
dential election.  It  shows  the  overriding  importance  of  the 
national  election,  and  the  depth  of  feehng  as  to  that  in  Massa- 
chusetts, that  such  men  as  met  at  Worcester  yesterday  were 
willing  to  throw  away  their  certainty  of  flaxing  out  Gardner, 
for  the  sake  of  the  moral  effect  abroad  of  a  grand  union  and 
peace  here  in  Massachusetts,  against  the  Administration  party. 

October  29,  1856. 

.  .  .  Say  to  Dawes  I  find  great  encouragement  to  work  in 
Berkshire.  The  result  ia  No.  11  depends  on  the  work  done  on 
Saturday  and  Monday.  I  wish  you  and  he  would  arrange  for 
an  old  Whig  and  an  old  Democrat  to  visit  every  town  in  Frank- 
lin county  in  the  district,  on  those  two  days  iu  addition  to  aU 
other  work  done  and  being  done.  I  want  them  to  pray  with 
the  leaders,  and  make  'em  promise  to  do  everything  possible 
for  Dawes  on  Tuesday.  This  is  the  work  that  teUs,  and  he  who 
does  the  most  of  it  on  those  two  days  wins  the  victory. 

Southern  Berkshire  looks  better.  Senator  Wilson  has  sowed 
good  seed.  Banks's  letter  amounts  to  little  or  nothing — does 
not  take  ground  for  Trafton  as  against  Dawes.  I  have  ar- 
ranged a  meeting  of  the  faithful  at  Pittsfield,  Friday,  with  the 


176     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

assurance  that  the  county  shall  be  mapped  out  afresh,  and 
every  town  visited  Satiirday  and  Monday.  Dawes  is  gaining, 
and  so  is  Weston.  The  fight  is  between  them,  it  seems  to  me, 
and  Weston's  friends  are  quite  confident  of  victory.  Dawes  is 
the  only  man  that  can  beat  him, —  that  is  the  word  to  pass 
along  the  hne. 

To  H.  L.  Dawes. 

November  10,  1856. 

What  with  forty-two  hours  continuous  work  Tuesday  and 
Wednesday  and  Thursday,  without  sleep,  and  getting  over  it, 
last  week,  I  had  not  time  to  write  you.  But  you  know  what  I 
would  say, —  and  how  I  felt,  and  how  I  whooped,  and  how 
good  all  over  I  felt ;  so  good  that  not  even  Fremont's  defeat 
could  take  the  joy  out  of  me.  Was  not  the  vote  great,  and  the 
result  magnificent,  and  that  Berkshire  should  do  the  best  part 
of  it  too !  I  had  faith,  strong  faith,  after  I  saw  how  your 
friends  responded  to  the  final  call  for  work,  but  I  was  not  pre- 
pared for  such  a  victory.  Your"  friends  everywhere  worked 
well  and  with  a  hearty  good  wUl.  It  is  something  to  have  such 
friends.  AU  deserve  appreciation,  and  no  one  above  another, 
and  I  know  all  will  have  it  from  you. 

It  seems  now  as  if  you  must  have  been  elected  any  way ; 
but  there's  no  doubt  that  both  Weston  and  Trafton  thought 
they  were  ahead  a  week  before  the  election,  and  with  reason. 
You  gained  rapidly  in  the  last  six  days,  and  immensely  in  the 
last  three.  Our  feUows  went  over  the  district  after  Weston  and 
Trafton  had  got  through.  I  verily  believe  that  every  town  in 
the  district  was  visited  on  Saturday  and  Monday.  It  was  cer- 
tainly so  this  side  the  mountains. 

You  shall  pay  the  biU  now  that  you  are  elected  —  that  is,  all 
the  expenses,  for  it  is  right.  Had  you  failed  it  would  have  been 
different,  for  I  felt  we  could  well  afford  to  invest  $50  or  $100  in 
yoiir  behalf  at  a  venture.  The  principal  item  is  for  the  5500  ex- 
tras, which  being  printed  in  the  night  in  order  to  get  them  out, 
cost  more  than  they  ordinarily  would.  I  have  paid  some  bills  at 
Northampton,  and  have  some  to  pay  at  Greenfield.     The  whole 


letters:    1851-1856.  177 

will  be  -within  $75,*  but  pay  all  the  rest  first  and  let  this  remaia 
till  you  have  cash  on  hand  and  "owe  no  man  anything." 
Please  do  this.    I'll  take  a  mortgage  on  your  first  mileage. 

To  Charles  Allen. 

Springfield,  December  21,  1856. 
.  .  .  I  had  just  settled  down  for  the  winter,  determined 
not  to  be  seduced  out  of  Springfield  for  the  present,  when  I  got, 
on  Saturday,  the  note  I  enclose  [the  suggestion  to  estabhsh  a 
newspaper  in  Philadelphia] .  I  hardly  know  what  to  think  about 
it,  much  less  what  to  say.  It's  fiattering,  of  course,  and  appeals 
somewhat  to  a  proper  ambition,  and  yet  I  have  a  dread  of  deep 
water.  I  feel  a  good  deal  as  did  the  bashful  boy,  whose  father 
was  urging  him  to  go  and  marry  a  certain  girl  of  the  neighbor- 
hood. "  I  was  married  —  your  mother  was  married  —  and  you 
must  expect  to  be."  '^  But,"  blubbei'ed  the  youth,  "  you  married 
mother,  but  you  want  me  to  go  and  marry  a  strange  gal !  "  I 
can  edit  a  paper  in  Massachusetts,  but  the  strange  gal  in  Phila- 
delphia I  have  some  horror  of.  However,  I  shall  hear  what 
they  have  to  say.  If  I  could  dictate  the  terms  as  to  capital, 
etc.,  and  have  supreme  control,  and  make  an  independent 
paper  with  Republican  leanings,  and  not  a  Republican  paper 
with  independent  leanings  (like  the  Tribune  and  Republican)  I 
should  like  to  see  what  I  am  made  of  somewhat  more  than  I  am 
likely  to  here.  Please  return  me  Dana's  note,  and  of  course  say 
nothing  of  the  suggestion  in  its  present  shape,  unless  it  be  to 
G.  T.  D.,  whose  opinion  I  should  respect. 

December  25,  1856. 

The  compliments  of  the  season !  .  .  .  My  Philadelphia 
man  came  yesterday,  but  I  told  him  I  could  and  would  do  noth- 
ing with  him ;  that  I  could  only  talk  seriously  of  the  matter 
when  I  saw  a  combination  of  capital,  of  which  I  was  to  be  the 

*  Characteristic  of  tlie  region  and  time, — the  chief  manager  in  a  hot 
congressional  contest  spends  less  than  a  hundred  dollars ;  and  the  sharp 
decisive  work  of  the  final  rally  is  done  on  Saturday  and  Monday,  without 
infringing  on  the  intervening  Sunday. 

Vol.  I.— 12 


178     THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

representative  and  salaried  agent,  taking  such  interest  of  course 
myself  as  to  inspire  confidence  in  my  fidelity.  He  says  Dana, 
Snow,  and  M'Elrath,  of  the  Tribune,  are  ready  to  invest  in  the 
enterprise  if  I  will  take  hold.  I  said,  very  well :  when  you  and 
the  other  Philadelphia  gentlemen  and  Dana  &  Co.  want  to 
talk  with  me  on  my  basis,  summon  me  to  New  York  for  con- 
sultation, and  I  will  come  down.  And  so  he  left  after  half  an 
hour's  talk,  evidently  fuU  in  the  faith  that  the  combination 
would  be  made,  and  that  I  should  be  summoned  to  its  head. 
But  we  wiU  see.  There  is  undoubtedly  a  chance  to  make  a 
property  costing  from  $30,000  to  $50,000,  worth  $100,000  within 
one  to  two  years,  with  good  and  resolute  management ;  but  I 
shall  be  stiff  with  'em, —  depend  upon  it. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

The  Boston  "Traveller." 

AT  the  close  of  the  presidential  campaign  of  1856,  the 
Jl\-  Republican  had  fairly  achieved  the  position  which 
the  New  York  Tribune  soon  after  accorded  to  it,  of  "  the 
best  and  ablest  country  journal  ever  published  on  this 
continent."  It  had  won  its  place  by  the  hardest  work, 
by  its  editor's  natural  genius  for  journalism,  and  by  the 
opportunity  of  a  gi'eat  political  epoch.  It  had  for  several 
years  been  steadily  earning  money  for  its  proprietors ;  it 
was  constantly  increasing  the  quantity  and  quality  of  its 
matter;  it  had  won  a  high  reputation,  had  made 
many  enemies,  and  was  acknowledged  by  both  friends 
and  enemies  as  a  power  in  public  affairs.  But  it  seemed 
to  have  reached  a  limit  which  forbade  much  further 
growth.  It  had  gained  almost  as  large  a  circulation 
as  was  possible  in  the  country  neighborhood  to  which  it 
was  necessarily  restricted.  After  several  more  years  of 
prosperity,  in  1860,  the  entire  circulation  of  the  Daily 
was  5700.  Of  this  number  1850  copies  were  taken  in 
Springfield,  of  which  the  population  was  about  15,000 ; 
giving  one  paper  to  every  eight  inhabitants, —  a  very 
high  rate,  and  one  from  which  scarcely  any  advance 
could  be  expected,  though  in  fact  within  two  or  three 
years  the  circulation  of  the  Daily  was  more  than  doubled 
owing  to  the  rapid  growth  of   the  town  through  the 

179 


180     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

enlargement  of  the  Armory,  and  the  increased  demand 
for  news  in  time  of  war.  The  Weekly  had,  in  1860,  a  cir- 
culation of  11,280,  of  which  7271  were  in  Massachusetts. 
The  special  field  of  the  paper  was  in  western  Massa- 
chusetts, though  both  editions  had  a  limited  circulation 
elsewhere;  and  there  was  no  state  or  territory,  except 
Mississippi  and  Utah,  in  which  the  Weekly  had  not  regu- 
lar subscribers.  But  the  substantial  paying  circulation 
was  necessarily  confined  to  the  immediate  neighborhood, 
and  could  never  rise  beyond  a  small  fraction  of  the  con- 
stituency possible  for  the  journals  of  a  great  city.  The 
advertising  patronage,  of  course,  was  under  a  like  limi- 
tation. All  this  implied  that  the  Republican  must  be  pub- 
lished upon  a  very  economical  basis :  that  it  must  deny  it- 
self many  of  those  resources  by  which  a  wealthy  newspaper 
can  increase  its  attractions ;  that  its  chief  conductor  must 
spend  his  own  vitality  freely  to  make  up  for  the  limita- 
tions of  his  exchequer,  and  that  he  must  content  himself 
with  a  far  scantier  measure  of  influence  than  the  journal- 
ist who  numbers  his  readers  by  the  hundred  thousand. 

This  was  the  barrier  which  Samuel  Bowles  had  now 
reached  in  his  career.  It  was  impossible  but  that  such  a 
spirit  as  his  should  seek  to  pass  it,  and  to  find  a  wider  field. 
He  was  only  thirty  years  old, —  an  age  when  the  best  of  a 
man's  work  should  be  still  before  him.  He  had  in  him- 
self every  qualification  for  filling  a  large  place.  He 
might  well  feel  a  strong  self-confidence  when  he  looked 
toward  a  wider  field.  From  the  great  established  news- 
papers, under  the  recognized  master-journalists,  advances 
were  repeatedly  made  to  him.  Propositions  more  than 
once  came  from  the  ofiBce  of  the  Tribune,  a  paper  with 
which  the  Bepublican  was  largely  in  sympathy,  and  with 
whose  staff  its  editor  was  on  friendly  terms.  In  1856,  as 
one  of  his  letters  has  shown,  a  project  was  discussed  for 
his  taking  the  head  of  the  Tribune  bureau  at  Washing- 


THE   BOSTON    "TRAVELLER."  181 

ton.  But  probably  no  situation  as  lieutenant,  under 
however  great  a  Caesar,  would  have  suited  him. 

Early  in  1857,  a  scheme  was  planned  in  Boston,  and 
broached  to  Mr.  Bowles,  of  a  great  newspaper  enter- 
prise there  under  his  direction.  The  Boston  Trav- 
eller was  to  be  taken  as  a  basis,  and  its  name  retained ; 
the  Atlas  and  the  Telegraph  and  Chronicle  were  to  be 
bought  up  and  consolidated  with  it ;  there  was  to  be  a 
large  staff,  with  distinguished  correspondents ;  the  paper 
was  to  be  Republican,  independent,  progressive,  and  IVIr. 
Bowles  was  to  be  editor-in-chief. 

The  plan  seemed  full  of  brilliant  promise.  It  proposed 
such  a  paper  as  Boston  had  never  seen  before,  and  offered 
to  its  editor  a  leadership  of  the  whole  New  England  press, 
and  a  place  in  the  little  group  of  newspaper  kings  of 
America.  Ambition  made  quick  response  to  the  call ; 
imagination  fired  at  it ;  prudence  took  a  hasty  survey, 
and  said,  "  Try  it ! "  A  favorable  decision  was  quickly 
reached,  and  the  details  settled  without  delay.  The 
editor  was  to  receive  about  one-tenth  of  the  stock  of  the 
new  company  as  a  bonus,  and  a  salary  of  three  thousand 
dollars.  He  took  in  addition  ten  thousand  dollars'  worth 
of  stock,  paying  for  it  with  money  he  had  laid  up  from 
the  Bepublican's  earnings.  The  subject  was  first  sug- 
gested to  him  in  February,  and  in  April  the  new 
Traveller  was  launched.  Its  ambitious  programme  was 
thus  stated: 

"  The  grand  idea  of  the  new  paper  is  that  of  universahty — a 
full  presentation  and  a  Hberal  discussion  of  all  questions  of 
public  concernment,  from  an  entii*ely  independent  position, 
and  a  faithful  and  impartial  exhibition  of  all  movements  of 
interest  at  home  and  abroad." 

It  was  a  hasty  step  on  Mr.  Bowles's  part.  Yet  he  was 
not  altogether  deserted  by  the  caution  which  he  had 


182     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

inlierited,  and  by  which  he  had  thus  far  kept  secure 
every  step  once  gained.  He  avoided  the  risk  taken  by 
many  a  brilliant  journalist  who  stakes  all  he  has  won 
in  a  long  course  of  subordinate  labor,  upon  a  doubtful 
venture.  Mr.  Bowles  staked  only  his  surplus  earnings. 
He  kept  unimpaired  his  interest  in  the  Republican 
establishment.  He  did  not  break  up  his  Springfield 
home,  but  left  his  family  there,  though  it  involved  for 
him  the  discomfort  and  loneliness  of  a  bachelor  resi- 
dence. The  Bejmhlican,  too,  was  well  enough  equipped  in 
its  editorial  and  business  departments,  with  Dr.  Holland, 
Mr.  Hood,  Mr.  Bryan,  and  the  sub-editors,  to  maintain 
itself  fairly,  while  it  was  troubled  by  no  considerable 
rival  in  its  local  field.  So,  its  old  chief  said  his  farewell 
in  a  brief  editorial,  transmitting  his  authority  to  Dr.  Hol- 
land, and  regretfully  leaving  the  paper  into  which  he 
had  ^'  freely  and  honestly  poured  the  second  and  best 
fifteen  years  of  his  life."  The  phrase  is  noticeable, — 
at  thirty-one  a  man's  best  fifteen  years  should  not  be 
behind  him. 

The  new  Traveller  made  a  good  though  not  a  brilliant 
beginning.  It  was  a  sheet  of  eight  pages,  a  form  then 
unfamiliar  to  Boston  journalism.  It  was  fairly  good  in 
its  various  departments,  but  strongest  in  the  editorial 
page,  which  showed  on  political  subjects  the  vigor  and 
independence  which  were  characteristic  of  the  chief 
editor ;  while  it  gave  also  a  variety  of  topics  and  breadth 
of  treatment,  which,  if  they  did  not  fulfill  the  ambitious 
promise  of  universality,  were  a  marked  advance  beyond 
the  ordinary  newspaper  field.  But  the  paper  lacked  the 
good  work  in  every  detail,  the  individuality,  the  spice, 
the  unique  charm  of  the  Bepiiblican.  It  was  not  to  be 
expected  that  the  Boston  paper  should  be  a  mere  enlarge- 
ment of  the  Springfield  journal,  and  for  it  to  develop  a 
homogeneous  and  powerful  character  of  its  own  there 


THE   BOSTON    "  TRAVELLEE."  183 

were  needed  time  and  growth.  The  public  found  the 
Traveller  a  strong,  readable,  and  weU-informed  paper; 
but  while  it  was  still  "in  the  gristle,"  before  it  had 
gained  a  symmetrical,  impressive  individuality,  or  got  a 
firm  hold  on  its  constituency, — in  a  little  more  than 
four  months, —  came  the  withdrawal  of  Mr.  Bowles  and 
the  relinquishment  by  the  paper  of  its  new  character. 

The  general  verdict  by  the  wise  ones  was  that  "  Sam 
Bowles  and  Boston  did  not  suit  each  other " ;  that  the 
stronghold  of  tradition,  propriety,  and  mutual  admira- 
tion, was  no  place  for  an  audacious  and  irreverent  f eUow 
who  was  perfectly  ready  in  the  way  of  debate  to  crack 
the  crown  of  his  dearest  friend,  or  to  stab  under  the 
fifth  rib  the  greatest  man  of  his  party,  and  who  was 
quite  capable  of  speaking  disrespectfully  of  the  State- 
house  dome.  But  it  would  probably  be  juster  to  say 
that  his  personality  offered  the  very  elements  then  most 
needed  by  Boston  journalism.  In  no  other  respect  was 
the  city  so  deficient  in  leadership  as  in  its  newspapers. 
It  stood,  as  it  still  stands,  preeminent  above  all  other 
American  cities  as  the  home  and  mother  of  scholars, 
thinkers,  and  reformers.  It  was  then  as  now  the  dis- 
seminating center  of  the  best  influences  inherited  from 
Puritanism,  and  the  most  hospitable  port  to  the  advent- 
urous craft  of  modern  thought.  Nowhere  else  wUl  one 
see  so  large  a  proportion  of  intelligent  and  earnest  faces 
as  in  the  crowds  that  throng  its  narrow  streets.  Even 
with  all  its  modern  degeneracies,  and  the  deterioration 
due  to  its  later  importations  from  Europe,  the  town  still 
shows  itself  the  true  descendant  of  the  Puritan  fathers. 
If  "  holiness  to  the  Lord  "  is  not  written  on  the  bells  of 
the  horses,  yet  the  horse-car  passenger  is  warned  by 
placard  to  follow  the  prescribed  way  of  paying  his  fare, 
with  an  appeal  to  his  conscience,  "Not  to  do  it  is  wrong ^'; 
and  the  sign  above  the  bootblack's  stand  on  the  Common 


184     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

impressively  addresses  the  patriot :  ^'  It  is  a  discredit  to 
you,  and  a  disgrace  to  the  conimomvealth  of  Massachusetts, 
to  let  your  boots  be  dirty," 

Thirty  years  ago,  the  newspaper  press  of  Boston,  while 
representing  in  its  different  journals  a  wide  variety  of 
ideas,  was  in  its  methods  of  journalism  very  unprogres- 
sive.  It  was  far  behind  the  press  of  New  York  in  enter- 
prise of  news-gathering,  in  intellectual  force,  and  in 
influence  upon  the  country  at  large.  The  superiority  on 
which  it  chiefly  prided  itself  was  that  of  decorum.  Such 
a  free  lance  as  Sam  Bowles  was  sure  to  considerably 
startle  his  new  constituency.  But  in  his  principles  of 
journalism  and  his  own  powers,  there  were,  as  it  would 
now  seem,  the  very  elements  to  supplement  and  enlarge 
the  traditions  of  the  Boston  press,  and  to  make  a  news- 
paper which  should  be  to  Boston  what  Horace  Greeley's 
Tribune  was  to  New  York. 

But  the  Traveller  enterprise  was  ill-planned,  and  pre- 
destinate to  failure.  The  three  newspapers  which  it 
amalgamated  were  financially  weak  and  morally  incon- 
gruous with  each  other.  The  old  Traveller  had  not  had 
any  decided  character  as  a  newspaper,  except  perhaps 
that  it  was  semi-religious ;  and  it  had  not  obtained  any 
commercial  patronage  or  advertising, — this  was  all 
absorbed  by  the  Advertiser  and  the  Post.  The  Atlas  had 
formerly  been  the  leading  Whig  paper  of  New  England. 
It  had  gone  heartily  into  the  movement  for  a  new  party 
of  freedom,  and  had  thereby  alienated  a  part  of  its  old 
supporters  ;  it  had  lost  subscribers,  advertisers,  and  pres- 
tige. The  Chronicle  had  been  started  as  an  anti-prohibi- 
tion paper,  and  its  stock  had  never  been  worth  anything. 
The  new  Traveller  added  to  these  original  elements 
a  moderate  financial  capital,  a  brilliant  editor-in-chief, 
and  inharmonious  owners.  It  started  with  a  flourish 
of  trumpets,  proclaiming  that  Boston  had  never  had  a 


185 

good  newspaper,  and  was  now  to  see  Sine  plus  ultra.  It 
had  powei'ful  rivals  in  the  Journal  and  the  Transcript.  A 
paper  begun  on  the  scale  of  the  Traveller  needs  either  an 
ampler  capital  than  that  paper  possessed,  or  an  extremely 
able  management  inspired  by  perfectly  united  councils. 
The  councils  of  the  Traveller's  conductors  were  not  and 
could  not  be  united,  because  there  was  among  them  a  radi- 
cal difference  as  to  the  fundamental  principles  of  newspaper 
management.  From  the  day  he  began  his  work  in  Boston, 
]Mr,  Bowles  found  that  his  associates,  who  represented 
the  principal  capital  and  business  management  of  the 
concern,  were  out  of  sympathy  with  him  both  as  to  the 
principles  and  details  of  their  joint  enterprise.  He  was 
in  nominal  control  of  the  editorial  department,  but  while 
some  good  and  satisfactory  workers  were  secured,  other 
employees  owed  their  position  to  the  favor  of  the  other 
partners  in  the  business,  and  gave  neither  the  amount 
nor  Idnd  of  work  that  was  needed.  Deficiencies  of  this 
sort  were  in  part  made  good  by  the  editor,  who  threw 
himself  into  the  breach  and  did  what  other  men  ought  to 
have  done ;  in  part  they  could  not  be  made  good  at  all. 
Other  trouble  arose.  With  a  limited  capital  and  heavy 
expenses,  the  necessity  was  felt  for  wise  and  delicate 
financial  steering.  G-ardner  and  his  friends  were  looking 
about  for  newspaper  help  to  strengthen  his  tottering 
estate.  Under  such  circumstances,  a  clear  and  full  agree- 
ment among  the  papei-'s  owners  was  needed,  as  to  what 
class  of  considerations  was  to  be  paramount  in  its  con- 
duct ;  whether  financial  or  moral  success  was  the  prime 
object;  whether  and  how  the  necessary  means  of  finan- 
cial support  could  be  obtained  without  any  compromise 
of  principle.  As  soon  as  these  questions  began  to  come 
up,  Mr.  Bowles  found  himself  at  odds  with  his  principal 
associates  in  the  ownership,  to  a  degree  that  ere  long 
resolved  these  questions  into  the  single  one  of  how  to 


186     THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

dissolve  their  ill-mated  partnership.  There  was  a  time 
of  painful  and  wearying  discussion  and  negotiation,  and 
then  the  end  was  reached, —  Mr.  Bowles  withdrew  from 
the  editorship  and  management ;  the  money  he  had  in- 
vested was  left  in  the  concern  with  the  other  capital 
until  such  time  as  it  could  be  safely  withdrawn ;  and  a 
new  organization  was  made  for  the  conduct  of  the  paper. 
Bankruptcy  was  avoided,  and  the  Traveller  continued  its 
existence,  but  sailing  under  other  colors  and  on  a  differ- 
ent course  from  that  so  hopefully  entered  upon  a  few 
months  before. 

Mr.  Bowles's  brief  card  announcing  to  the  public  his 
withdrawal  said : 

"  The  explanation  of  this  change  lies  in  the  different  princi- 
ples of  newspaper  economy  held  by  the  respective  parties. 
Mr.  Bowles,  finding  from  this  cause  and  his  own  health  that 
the  expectations  under  which  he  was  induced  to  take  the  edit- 
orship of  the  Traveller  were  not  hkely  to  be  reahzed,  has  in- 
sisted on  withdrawing,  in  justice  to  himseh  and  in  order  that 
his  associates  might  without  embarrassment  conduct  the  paper 
after  a  pohcy  in  which  they  have  great  confidence,  but  which 
he  cannot  approve." 

His  associates  rejoined  next  day,  laying  chief  stress  on 
the  non-success  of  the  eight-page  form  and  professing 
entire  content  with  their  own  "  principles  of  newspaper 
economy."  The  paper  returned  in  a  few  days  to  the 
large  four-page  sheet  and  to  the  old  style  in  general. 
Under  Mr.  Bowles  the  Traveller  had  supported  the  Re- 
publican party  and  opposed  Governor  Gardner.  It  said 
(July  10)  that  the  governor  was  trying  to  secure  some 
newspaper  organ  in  Boston  :  "  Time  works  wonders,  and 
it  would  surprise  no  one  who  is  acquainted  with  the  un- 
der-currents  of  the  political  sea  to  behold  his  Excellency's 
name  at  the  head  of  columns  now  devoted  to  anything 


THE   BOSTON    "TRAVELLER."  187 

else  than  the  setting  forth  of  his  claim  to  excellence." 
The  paper  of  September  10  —  the  same  in  which  the 
retu'ing  editor  took  leave  —  spoke  of  Gardner's  impend- 
ing renomiuation  by  the  Americans  as  directly  hostile  to 
the  Republican  and  Anti-slavery  cause,  of  which  Banks 
was  already  and  worthily  the  candidate.  The  next  day 
the  paper  spoke  of  Gardner  in  a  different  tone,  and  before 
the  end  of  the  month  it  was  the  active  advocate  of  his 
reelection. 

To  Mr.  Bowles  the  issue  could  not  but  bring  deep 
chagrin.  He  had  made  a  great  venture  and  had  lost. 
The  financial  loss  was  inconvenient,  but  not  distressing. 
But  his  ambition  had  met  with  a  check,  and  his  pride 
was  deeply  touched.  He  bore  himself  steadily,  without 
wailings  or  reproaches.  He  took  by  way  of  rest  a  brief 
trip  to  the  West  with  Charles  Allen  and  his  sister ;  and 
then  came  back  to  his  home,  to  the  quiet  little  town  and 
the  beautiful  Connecticut  valley,  and  before  very  long  to 
his  first  and  last  love,  the  Eepublican.  The  paper  had 
undergone  no  marked  change  in  his  absence.  It  had 
lacked  something  of  breadth  and  brilliance.  Dr.  Hol- 
land had  impressed  it  more  than  before  with  his  own 
special  vein,  of  direct  and  vigorous  preaching  on  the 
personal  conduct  of  life  ;  he  had  fairly  maintained,  with 
his  associates,  the  character  of  the  paper,  but  his  gift 
and  taste  (and  this  was  also  true  of  Mr.  Hood)  lay  rather 
toward  writing  than  toward  general  editing.  He  volun- 
teered to  relinquish  to  Mr.  Bowles  the  editorial  control, 
at  the  same  time  selling  his  interest  in  the  paper,  and 
withdrawing  from  all  editorial  work  except  writing. 
The  offer  was  accepted,  perhaps  with  a  little  regret 
and  reluctance  by  both  men,  the  one  at  resigning  the 
place  of  power,  the  other  at  assuming  without  inter- 
mission the  full  burden  of  responsibility,  yet  each  drawn 
by  true  instinct  toward  his  right  place.     Dr.  Holland 


188     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

devoted  himself  hereafter  partly  to  contributions  to  the 
paper,  partly  to  lectui'ing  and  book- writing.  Mr.  Bowles 
threw  himself  into  his  old  work  with  a  new  energy. 
Whatever  he  felt  of  regret  or  of  wounded  pride  at  the 
failure  in  Boston,  was  alleged  neither  by  spoken  com- 
plaint nor  by  brooding,  but  by  harder  work.  He  had 
sought  a  more  favorable  environment,  and,  failing  in 
that,  he  essayed  the  higher  task  of  making  a  narrow 
environment  serve  his  purpose. 


CHAPTER    XVIir. 
The  RiPExmG  Journalist, 

AINIAN'S  life  may  be  measured  by  two  great  tests, — 
his  work  and  his  character ;  what  he  does  and  what 
he  is.  Mr.  Bowles's  return  to  Springfield  iu  the  autumn 
of  1857  may  be  taken  as  a  point  whence  in  some  marked 
respects  his  life  became  broader,  deeper,  and  more  diver- 
sified, and  gives  fit  opportunity  for  a  review  of  his  per- 
sonal development.  There  was  an  immense  educating 
force  in  the  public  events  of  the  time  for  one  whose  busi- 
ness it  was  to  report,  to  discuss,  and  to  help  to  shape  the 
course  of  things.  The  civil  contentions  about  slavery 
afforded  not  only  a  moral  but  an  intellectual  education. 
Whoever  reads  the  history  of  the  Republican  movement 
against  the  extension  of  slavery  will  see  how  different 
it  was  from  a  simple  moral  crusade  against  wrong.  It 
was  allied  with  other  sentiments  and  motives  —  a  per- 
ception of  the  economic  folly  of  slavery,  a  sense  of 
injury  to  Northern  white  men  by  the  aggressions  of 
slavery  in  the  territories,  a  growing  resentment  at  the 
domineering  temper  of  the  Southern  leaders,  a  determi- 
nation that  the  countiy  should  no  longer  be  governed 
by  an  arrogant  sectional  faction,  with  Northern  politi- 
cians for  its  allies,  and  patronage  and  corruption  for  its 
instruments.  It  was  political  self-respect,  and  care  for 
white  men's  rights  and  interests,  more  than  regard  for 

189 


190     THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

the  slaves  or  moral  condemnation  of  slavery,  whicli 
brought  the  Republican  party  into  power.  Yet  Aboli- 
tionism had  no  monopoly  of  the  conscience  of  the  North. 
The  obligation  to  support  the  existing  form  of  govern- 
ment, as  the  bulwark  of  social  order,  was  felt  honestly 
and  keenly  by  a  great  class  of  minds,  many  of  which 
were  at  the  same  time  fully  alive  to  the  wrong  of  slavery. 
To  find  the  practical  reconcilement  of  the  two  sentiments 
was  as  hard  a  problem  as  the  brain  and  heart  of  a  peo- 
ple ever  struggled  with.  If  the  motives  of  Repub- 
licanism were  less  single  than  those  of  the  Abolitionists, 
its  methods  were  more  practical.  Abohtionism  was  a 
passionate  sentiment ;  Republicanism  was  statesman- 
ship. The  task  of  the  Abolitionist  was  often  heroic, 
often  perilous,  but  it  was  extremely  simple,  being  sim- 
ply to  reiterate  ^'  Slavery  is  a  crime."  How  to  free  the 
slaves  the  Abolitionists  hardly  attempted  to  show.  The 
only  course  they  indicated  for  Northern  voters  was  to 
abstain  from  voting,  and  to  dissolve  the  Union.  Their 
chief  apostle.  Garrison,  was  as  much  opposed  to  war  as 
he  was  to  slavery ;  and  when  at  last  the  slave's  fetters 
were  cut  by  the  sword,  the  way  was  as  hostile  to  his  life- 
long teaching  as  the  result  was  congenial.  The  Aboli- 
tionists as  a  class  were  as  brave,  intense,  and  narrow  as 
the  early  Puritans,  but  without  the  Puritan  aptitude  for 
state-building.  But  the  Republican  leaders  were  men  of 
affau's.  They  took  it  as  their  business  to  sail  the  ship 
of  state.  The  Constitution  and  the  established  forms  of 
government  were  the  instruments  by  which  they  were  to 
work :  these  were  the  organic  framework  of  civil  society. 
The  framework  might  not  be  altogether  of  the  best,  and 
might  need  gradual  improvement;  but  to  discard  or 
ignore  it  outright  was  to  plunge  into  anarchy  and  chaos. 
Seward,  Chase,  "Wilson,  Lincoln,  and  their  associates 
had  that  large  wisdom  in  adapting  means  to  ends  which 


THE  BIPENING  JOUENALIST.  191 

is  statesmanship;  with  that  especial  wisdom  in  ascer- 
taining public  opinion^  educating  it,  leading  it  if  possible, 
and  in  the  last  resort  obeying  it,  in  which  consists  the 
statesmanship  of  a  democracy. 

A  similar  wisdom,  at  once  philosophical  and  practical, 
must  belong  to  the  journalistic  leader  of  opinion.  Gree- 
ley and  Raymond  had  it, —  the  one  with  more  of  moral 
sentiment  and  passion,  the  other  with  greater  breadth 
and  adroitness.  Mr.  Bowles  too  grew  eminent  in  this 
statesmanlike  quality  of  mind.  In  a  democracy  the 
people  are  greater  than  the  government,  and  the  jour- 
nalist who  influences  and  educates  the  people,  and  in 
their  name  points  out  the  ends  which  government  ought 
to  seek,  often  fills  a  place  of  larger  power  than  repre- 
sentative or  senator. 

The  limitation  of  the  moral  power  of  politician  or 
journalist  is  that  in  order  to  lead  he  must  in  a  degree 
conform.  In  a  democracy  no  kind  of  leadership  is  free 
from  that  necessity,  save  that  of  the  pure  idealist  —  the 
poet  or  the  prophet.  On  all  others  conformity  lays  its 
heavy  hand.  But  under  the  firmest  rein  of  all  does  it 
hold  the  man  who  makes  it  his  business  to  take  active 
part  in  government.  Agreement  with  the  majority  is 
the  inexorable  price  of  his  personal  success.  As  often 
fes  election  day  comes  round,  he  must  have  the  approval 
of  a  majority  of  his  constituency  or  be  turned  out  of  his 
work.  The  journalist's  necessity,  on  the  other  hand,  is 
to  make  a  paper  that  men  will  buy.  One  way  to  that 
end  is  to  express  sentiments  agreeable  to  his  readers, — 
to  soothe  them  with  assent  and  approval.  Another  way 
is  to  make  a  newspaper  so  attractive  by  its  general  merits 
that  men  will  buy  it  even  though  they  dissent  from  its 
doctrines.  That  was  the  path  which  Mr.  Bowles  chose 
for  the  Republican.  Not  till  near  the  end  of  his  life  was 
the  paper  confronted  with  the  severe  test  of  dii'ectly 


192     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF    SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

opposing,  in  a  presidential  campaign,  the  party  to  which 
the  mass  of  its  readers  belonged.  But  at  a  much  earlier 
stage  it  committed  itself  to  the  then  novel  position  of 
criticising  with  entire  freedom  the  special  measures  and 
the  individual  leaders  of  the  party  to  which  it  gave  a 
general  support.  The  old  theory  of  party  allegiance  — 
a  theory  still  substantially  practiced  in  this  year  of  grace 
1885  by  a  large  majority  of  American  journals — is  that 
the  individual,  or  the  newspaper,  shall  support  the  party, 
as  the  patriot  stands  by  his  country,  or  the  believer  by 
his  chui'ch.  Interior  discussion  and  guarded  criticism 
are  allowable,  but  are  always  to  be  subordinated  to  the 
prime  object  of  victory  over  the  foreign  foe,  the  heretic, 
or  the  opposing  faction.  The  approved  temper  toward 
the  party  is  to 

"Be  to  its  faults  a  little  blind, 
Be  to  its  virtues  veiy  kind." 

Three  obstacles  must  be  set  aside  or  overcome  by  the 
truly  independent  journalist.  He  forfeits  his  freedom  if 
he  becomes  a  place-seeker — whether  for  the  presidency 
or  a  post-office.  Next,  he  must  not  be  afraid  on  due  occa- 
sion to  give  offense  to  his  subscribers  ;  —  he  must  either 
counteract  such  offense  by  the  irresistible  attractiveness 
of  his  paper,  or  he  must  put  up  with  a  diminished  sub- 
scription-list. Lastly,  and  this  is  by  far  the  hardest,  he 
must,  in  his  own  mind,  rise  above  the  domination  of  the 
public  opinion  environing  him.  The  worst  aespotism  of 
party  is  exercised  within  a  man's  own  mind.  It  consists 
in  his  proneness  to  believe  that  all  truth  and  goodness 
are  found  in  his  own  creed  or  sect. 

The  Eepuhlican,  after  it  became  a  daily,  was  never 
extreme  in  its  partisanship.  But  for  its  first  decade  it 
virtually  owned  allegiance  to  the  Whig  party.  When,  for 
example,  the  Whig  party  leaders  in  1854  adhered  to  its 


THE   EIPENING   JOURNALIST.  193 

organization,  against  the  Republican's  remonstrance,  the 
paper,  still  considering  the  party  preferable  to  the  Know- 
nothings,  or  the  then  abortive  Repnblican  party,  tookdnr- 
ingthe  campaign  the  course  now  taken  by  moderate  party 
organs  when  similarly  dissatisfied.  It  professed  no  en- 
thusiasm, but  forbore  to  hurt  the  cause  by  "  speaking 
out  in  meeting"  till  election  was  over.  But  that  was  its 
last  act  of  perfunctory  allegiance  to  the  Whig  party,  or 
any  other.  The  editor's  ripening  comprehension  of  the 
journalistic  idea  fell  in  opportunely  with  his  paper's  estab- 
lished financial  success,  and  with  a  time  of  political 
disintegration  which  weakened  all  party  bonds.  The  Be- 
puhlicmi's  declaration  of  independence  was  made  on  the 
third  of  February,  1855.  At  that  time  the  paper  took  a 
forward  step  by  making  its  regular  Saturday  x^aper  one 
of  double  size,  with  eight  pages  instead  of  four.  It  began 
at  the  same  time  with  a  new  press  and  new  type,  and 
marked  the  occasion  by  a  review  of  its  own  history  from 
the  start,  and  a  notice  of  the  general  advance  of  jour- 
nalism, dating  from  the  invention  of  the  telegraph.  It 
continued : 

"  With  the  dawn  of  a  new  national  growth  upon  the  press  of 
America,  at  the  period  of  which  we  speak,  came  also  a  more 
perfect  intellectual  freedom  from  the  shackles  of  party.  The 
independent  press  of  the  countiy  is  fast  supplanting  the  merely 
partisan  press.  Parties  are  taking  their  form  and  substance 
from  the  press  and  pulpit,  rather  than  the  press  and  pulpit 
echoing  merely  the  voice  of  the  party.  A  merely  party  organ 
is  now  a  thing  despised  and  contenmed,  and  can  never  take 
rank  as  a  first-class  public  journal.  The  London  Times,  the 
great  journal  of  the  world,  is  the  creator,  not  the  creature,  of 
parties.  There  is  not  in  New  York,  where  journalism  in  this 
country  has  reached  its  highest  material  and  intellectual  per- 
fection, a  single  party  organ  in  existence.  All  are  emancipated. 
None  conceal  facts  lest  they  injiu-e  their  party.  None  fear  to 
speak  the  truth  lest  they  utter  treason  against  merely  partisan 
Vol.  I.— 13 


194     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

power.  The  true  purpose  of  the  press  is  understood  and  prac- 
ticed upon.  They  are  the  mirrors  of  the  world  of  fact  and  of 
thought.  Upon  that  fact  do  they  comment  with  freedom,  and 
to  that  thought  do  they  add  its  freshest  and  most  earnest  cumu- 
lations. 

'^  Such  in  its  sphere,  does  the  Bepublican  aim  to  be.  What- 
ever it  has  been  in  the  past,  no  more  shall  its  distinction  be  that 
of  a  partisan  organ,  blindly  following  the  will  of  party  and 
stupidly  obeying  its  behests.  It  has  its  principles  and  pui-poses. 
But  these  are  above  mere  party  success.  To  these  it  will  de- 
vote itself.  Whenever  and  wherever  the  success  of  men  or  of 
parties  can  advance  those  principles  and  purposes,  the  Bepub- 
lican will  boldly  advocate  such  success ;  whenever  men  and 
parties  are  stumbling-blocks  to  the  triumph  of  those  principles, 
they  wiU  be  as  boldly  opposed  and  denounced." 

To  one  who  bears  in  mind  the  character  of  the  New 
York  press,  and  the  American  press  in  general,  during 
most  of  the  thirty  years  since  this  was  written,  this  de- 
scription of  its  impartial  character  reads  like  a  sarcasm. 
The  era  of  journalistic  independence  was  as  brief  as  that 
of  the  disintegration  of  parties.  When  the  new  lines 
had  been  drawn,  the  newspapers  fell  into  place  on  one 
side  or  the  other, —  not  upon  the  whole  with  the  old  sub- 
servience, yet  with  a  degree  of  partisan  fidelity  which 
grew  with  the  growth  of  party  discipline,  as  the  Repub- 
lican party  matured  and  the  Democratic  party  recovered 
from  its  successive  disruptions ;  so  that  in  1872  '^  inde- 
pendent journalism  "  was  greeted  by  the  general  public 
as  a  new  phenomenon.  There  were  of  course  exceptions 
among  the  press,  to  trace  which  would  belong  to  a  general 
history  of  joiu-nalism.  But  through  the  iuterveningperiod, 
whether  heartily  favoring,  or  criticising,  or  opposing  the 
general  course  of  the  Republican  party, — Mr.  Bowles's 
paper  never  hesitated  to  pronounce  a  frank,  independent 
judgment  on  the  measures  and  men  of  that  party  and  of 


THE   RIPENING  JOURNALIST.  195 

all  parties.  Its  political  news  was  honest.  Its  readers 
could  always  find  the  views  of  its  opponents  faii-ly  quoted 
and  ungarbled.  Its  regular  correspondents  at  Washing- 
ton and  elsewhere  were  always  under  instructions  to  give 
the  facts  as  they  were,  whether  they  suited  the  editorial 
views  or  not.  In  the  correspondents'  galleries  in  the 
capitol,  one  may  sometimes  hear  such  remarks  as  this : 
"  The  situation  looks  to  me  so  and  so — but  the  old  man 
at  home  wiU  not  let  me  say  so  in  my  dispatches."  The 
Bepuhlican's  correspondents  had  no  occasion  to  say  that. 
They  were  chosen  with  due  regard  to  their  general  agree- 
ment with  the  paper's  views,  but  the  instructions  given 
them  were  to  tell  the  truth.  They  were  allowed,  too,  to 
tell  it  largely  from  the  stand-point  of  their  personal 
convictions.  It  was  often  the  case  that  the  paper's 
Washington  dispatches  were  considerably  more  radical 
in  their  tone  than  the  editorial  columns ;  while  the  biting 
criticisms  of  "  Wan-in gton,"  the  Boston  correspondent, 
fell  often  on  the  measures  and  men  that  the  EejmbUcan 
editorially  approved. 

One  great  source  from  which  the  chief  editor  drew  his 
knowledge  and  power  was  his  personal  intercourse  with 
public  men.  Among  these  he  cultivated  so  wide  an 
acquaintance  that  in  his  later  years  scarcely  another 
journalist  or  politician  in  the  country  had  so  large  a 
personal  knowledge  of  the  leading  men  of  the  time.  He 
was  thus  able  to  judge  of  public  questions,  not  as  abstrac- 
tions, but  with  a  keen  appreciation  of  the  personal  factors 
involved  in  them.  Through  all  these  years  it  was  his 
habit  to  visit  and  report  the  national  conventions  of  all 
parties,  as  well  as  the  important  conventions  in  his  own 
state.  In  times  of  special  crisis,  he  made  flying  ^dsits  to 
the  state  or  national  capitol,  felt  the  beats  of  its  pulse, 
and  came  home  to  judge  more  clearly  and  correctly  the 
drift  of  things  than  those  who  either  remained  in  the 


196     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWXES. 

central  heats  or  had  no  contact  with  them.  Whenever 
he  left  his  home  it  was  always  to  go  into  the  midst  of 
people,  and  the  most  interesting  people  he  could  find. 
He  had  a  rare  faculty  for  penetrating  direct  to  the  real 
man.  He  caught  with  quick  and  subtle  instinct  the 
characteristic  quality,  the  true  self;  and  he  exercised  a 
magnetism  and  charm  which  drew  people  to  open  them- 
selves, to  talk  of  what  they  cared  most  for,  and  show 
what  was  in  them.  Men  and  women  were  to  him  a  per- 
petual education  and  inspiration;  they  were  his  uni- 
versity and  library,  his  teachers  and  pupils,  his  work 
and  recreation.  He  lived  always  in  the  atmosphere  of 
humanity. 

His  estimates  of  character  were  swift  and,  as  a  rule, 
sagacious,  but  by  no  means  unerring ;  his  likes  and  dis- 
likes were  quick,  and  he  sometimes  took  strong  fancies 
or  unreasonable  prejudices. 

His  change  of  attitude  toward  Henry  Wilson  has  been 
described.  They  remained  on  excellent  terms  with  each 
other;  in  each  there  was  a  strong  element  of  good-fellow- 
ship ;  and  Wilson  had  a  communicative  disposition  which 
fitted  Bowles's  thirst  for  news  as  a  spring  of  water 
fits  with  a  pump.  With  Charles  Sumner  Mr.  Bowles 
had  much  slighter  personal  acquaintance,  but  Sumner's 
sincerity  and  ability  won  for  him  a  hearty  and  warm 
recognition  and  a  steady  support.  Of  Mr.  Banks,  after 
his  distinguished  success  as  speaker  of  the  House,  Mr. 
Bowles  had  great  expectations,  which  were  strengthened 
by  his  able  administration  as  governor.  He  discerned 
no  more  than  others  the  promise  of  Lincoln's  great- 
ness,—  in  truth,  evidence  of  it  was  scarcely  visible  to 
human  eyes  until  tested  by  the  event.  Nor  did  he  fully 
recognize  the  quality  of  John  A.  Andrew  until  the  war 
showed  the  man;  he  thought  his  nomination  in  1860 
unwise,  and  was  at  first  inclined  to  disparage  his  judg- 


THE   RIPENING   JOUENALIST.  197 

ment  and  ability.  But,  when  the  exercise  of  power 
showed  their  true  quality,  the  Bepuhlican  gave  a  stauch 
support  to  Governor  Andrew  and  to  President  Lincoln, 
and  cordially  recog:nized  the  power  and  integrity  which 
each  showed  in  his  own  sphere  and  way.  A  friend  who 
was  with  Mr.  Bowles  when  the  news  came  of  Andrew's 
death  relates  that  he  was  almost  overcome  by  it, — though 
he  had  known  him  only  in  his  public  capacity,  he  felt 
his  death  like  the  loss  of  a  friend.  He  was  for  many 
years  on  very  cordial  terms  with  Schuyler  Colfax ;  was 
his  companion  in  several  tours  in  the  far  "West,  and 
inscribed  ^'Across  the  Continent"  to  him. 

If  some  of  his  political  estimates  and  predictions  illus- 
trate Mr.  Bowles's  fallibility, —  and  infallibility  was  the 
last  thing  to  be  claimed  for  him, —  they  illustrate,  too, 
how  completely  some  great  men  of  a  day  or  a  year  are 
dethroned  by  Time,  and  how  imperfectly  the  most  saga- 
cious observer  fathoms  the  drift  of  public  affairs.  Sel- 
dom has  political  foresight  been  more  baffled  than  by 
the  outcome  of  the  struggle  over  American  slavery.  Its 
issue  in  a  gigantic  war,  which  left  the  Union  impregna- 
ble and  the  slaves  free,  was  wholly  beyond  the  presage 
alike  of  the  fathers  of  the  republic ;  of  Webster,  Clay, 
and  Calhoun ;  of  Seward  and  Greeley  and  Douglas  and 
Lincoln  ;  of  Garrison  and  John  Brown.  When  the  war 
came,  the  whole  nation,  like  one  man,  was  held  sternly  to 
that  tremendous  discipline  in  which  the  only  possibility 
is  to  meet  the  hour's  duty,  and  leave  all  beyond  with 
the  unseen  power  that  rules  human  destiny.  It  is  the 
presence  of  this  mysterious  power  as  the  supreme  actor 
in  the  drama,  which  gives  the  deepest  impressiveness  to 
that  critical  period  of  the  nation's  life.  The  suspense 
and  agony  of  the  conflict  lifted  men  into  a  sense  of  sub- 
limer  relations  than  they  had  felt  in  quiet  days ;  and 
now  we  look  back  with  wonder  to  see  how  a  result  was 


198     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

"wrought  out  transcending  all  human  plan  and  calcula- 
tion ;  men's  wisdom  or  folly,  heroism  or  cowardice, 
counting  always  as  potent  factors,  yet  as  instruments  to 
an  end  which  no  human  eye  foresaw. 

Among  the  influences  which  molded  Mr.  Bowles's 
mind,  there  is  to  be  considered  the  effect  of  his  work  as 
a  daily  editor,  with  its  ceaseless  activity  and  stimulus. 
One  quality  which  this  pressure  developed  in  him  was 
an  extreme  rapidity  of  mental  action.  He  had  been  a 
slow  boy,  but  he  became  one  of  the  swiftest  of  men. 
An  editorial  writer  in  the  New  York  Times  —  evidently 
one  of  his  old  pupils  —  said  after  his  death  :  "  His  think- 
ing was  like  the  working  of  a  perfected  machine.  The 
apt  conclusion  came  quickly,  without  groping  or  exterior 
suggestion.  He  was  not  in  the  habit  of  waiting  till  he 
had  read  his  exchanges  before  writing  his  leading  arti- 
cles. He  wrote,  as  he  thought,  with  astonishing  facility. 
If  with  his  own  pen,  it  flew  over  the  page  with  a  di'ead- 
ful  disregard  of  legibility  that  tortured  and  impover- 
ished the  unhappy  compositor ;  if  by  an  amanuensis,  he 
kept  him  at  the  stretch  of  his  powers.  But  the  literary 
excellence  of  his  style  was  remarkable.  The  apt  word, 
the  terse,  incisive  phrase,  and  the  sentence  full  of  pres- 
ent meaning  and  later  suggestion,  were  in  his  ready 
control." 

There  grew  the  aptitude  and  desire  for  something 
always  new.  The  constant  freshness  of  the  Reiniblican 
was  one  of  its  most  marked  qualities  and  strongest 
charms.  The  editor  said  to  a  friend :  "  It  is  no  trouble 
to  me  that  the  paper  contradicts  itself.  My  business  is 
to  tell  what  seems  to  me  the  truth  and  the  news  to-day, 
and  the  same  to-morrow.  That  is  one  of  the  paper's 
fascinations.  It's  a  daily  journal.  I  am  not  to  live  to 
be  as  old  as  Methusaleh,  and  brood  in  silence  over  a 
thing  till,  just  before  I  die,  I  think  I  have  it  right!" 


THE  KIPENING  JOUKNALIST.  199 

He  seemed  almost  to  become  weary  of  having  the  sun 
rise  every  morning  in  the  East.  He  was  constant  always 
to  his  principles,  but  he  was  so  ready  for  a  change  of 
method  that  it  put  him  in  a  degree  outside  of  the  sym- 
pathies of  the  mass  of  men  who  like  to  move  in  channels 
and  ruts.  His  judgment  of  political  situations  was  some- 
what warped  by  his  own  impulse  toward  novelty.  He 
was  constantly  looking  for  such  a  break-up  and  new  crys- 
tallization as  comes  but  once  or  twice  in  a  generation. 
He  took  part  in  one  such  grand  re-formation,  and  assisted 
in  the  unsuccessful  attempt  at  another ;  but  he  predicted 
them  a  great  many  times  when  they  did  not  come. 

He  was  growing  constantly  in  the  power  of  condensed 
and  telling  expression.  The  editorial  of  a  column,  or  a 
column  and  a  half,  grew  less  frequent  and  prominent. 
The  paragraph  was  superseding  it  in  the  place  of  honor, 
and  the  column  of  brief  '^  Note  and  Comment "  was  get- 
ting always  stronger  and  brighter,  till  it  became  the 
most  characteristic  feature  of  the  paper.  The  editor  had 
a  genius  for  pregnant  and  terse  diction.  He  knew 
how  to  condense  an  editorial  into  a  paragraph,  a  para- 
graph into  a  two-line  item,  an  item  into  a  word.  As  he 
came  to  his  full  growth,  hardly  another  hand  in  the 
profession  equaled  his  in  shaping  phrases  which  "  make 
a  hole  in  the  target."  His  epigrammatic  sentences  went 
the  round  of  the  press.  They  snapped  like  a  whip  and 
sometimes  cut  like  a  knife. 

It  is  often  difficult  or  impossible  to  distinguish  with 
confidence  the  editorial  wi-iting  of  Mr,  Bowles  from  that 
of  his  associates.  They  caught  something  of  his  style. 
He  had  "the  masculine  faculty  of  impregnating  other 
minds."  Some  writing  in  the  paper  seems  indicated  as 
Mr.  Hood's  by  a  certain  scholarly  ease  and  grace;  a 
finished  style  as  of  one  who  when  he  is  writing  his 
article  is  doing  his  day's  sole  work,  instead  of  having  a 


200     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

hundred  other  things  to  attend  to ;  and  a  philosophical 
quality  which  firmly  grasps  and  clearly  presents  the 
central  principle  underlying  the  immediate  question. 
This  philosophical  habit  grew  with  Mr.  Bowles  as  years 
advanced,  and  the  obligation  to  Mr.  Hood  which  he  so 
warmly  expressed  may  have  lain  partly  in  this  direction. 
Dr.  Holland's  distinctive  contribution  to  the  Republi- 
can was  twofold.  He  was  more  a  man  of  books  than  his 
colleague,  and  gave  to  the  paper  in  its  early  years  the 
discussion  of  literary  topics  which  did  much  to  broaden 
it  beyond  the  field  of  politics  and  news.  But  he  added 
too  a  more  novel  and  striking  feature.  It  was  said  of 
him  at  the  memorial  service  following  his  death : 

''  Dr.  Holland  was  essentially  a  preacher.  He  was  ordained 
by  natural  endowment,  and  by  steady,  enthusiastic  purpose,  to 
the  ministry  of  moral  guidance  and  inspiration.  That  voca- 
tion has  hitherto  been  largely  exercised  by  personal  speech  from 
pulpit  or  platform,  and  largely  through  the  instrumentality  of 
the  church.  But  his  life  fell  at  a  time  when  a  new  engine  of 
influence  is  supplementing  and  in  a  degree  supplanting  the  old. 
While  those  who  speak  from  the  pulpit  are  glad  to  number 
their  hearers  by  hundreds,  the  daily  editor  counts  his  by  tens 
of  thousands.  While  the  chui'ch  is  anxiously  debating  how  it 
can  reach  and  hold  the  people,  every  man  looks  on  his  door- 
step for  his  morning  paper  before  he  goes  to  his  breakfast. 
The  newspaper  beyond  any  other  teacher  now  comes  home  to 
men's  business  and  bosoms.  The  limitation  upon  that  influ- 
ence is  that  it  too  often  lacks  that  clearness  and  emphasis  of 
moral  piupose  which  has  largely  characterized  the  ministry  of 
the  pulpit.  It  was  the  especial  distinction  of  Dr.  Holland  that 
he  used  the  newspaper's  power  to  serve  the  preacher's  purpose. 
He  enlarged  and  ennobled  the  function  of  journalism,  by  put- 
ting it  to  a  new  and  higher  use.  He  showed  that  a  newspaper 
might  do  something  more  than  tell  the  news ;  something  be- 
sides discussing  affairs  at  Washington ;  something  more  even 
than  to  act  as  guide  and  judge  in  literature  and  art  and  public 
affairs.  He  used  the  daily  or  the  monthly  journal  to  jjurify 
and  sweeten  the  foimtains  of  personal  and  family  life.    He 


THE   EIPENING   JOUKNALIST,  201 

spoke  continually  the  word  that  should  inspu-e  young  men  to 
be  pui-e,  and  women  to  be  strong ;  the  word  that  shed  poetry 
over  the  home  life  ;  the  word  that  threw  on  every  interest  the 
Ught  of  conscience  and  the  wannth  of  moral  feeling." 

The  innovation  in  which  Dr.  Holland  was  perhaps  be- 
yond any  other  man  the  pioneer  consisted  not  in  using 
periodical  publication  for  the  moralist's  purpose, —  such 
use  is  as  old  as  the  time  of  Addison, — but  in  successfully 
grafting  that  function  upon  the  modern  daily,  and  mak- 
ing religion  compete  successfully  there  for  men's  atten- 
tion with  the  press  and  throng  of  other  interests.  He 
opened  a  noble  field  which  has  as  yet  been  but  scantily 
worked.  Much  of  his  editorial  writing  had  this  quality, 
but  his  conspicuous  success  began  when  he  wrote 
"  Timothy  Titcomb's  Letters  to  Young  People."  He 
had  previously  contributed  to  the  paper  some  series  of 
letters  on  light  social  topics,  and  Mr.  Bowles  one  day 
suggested  that  he  should  do  something  more  of  the  same 
kind.  "  I  thought  at  first,"  said  Dr.  HoUand,  "  that  I 
had  written  myself  out,  but  without  premeditation  I 
made  a  dash  at  another  line  of  subjects,  and  wrote  that 
forenoon  the  first  of  the  '  Timothy  Titcomb  Letters.' "  It 
shows  how  little  expectation  he  had  of  attracting  marked 
attention,  that  he  borrowed  a  pen-name  which  had  been 
used  by  Thackeray  in  one  of  his  minor  wiitings.  His 
unexpected  success  was  an  illustration  of  Cromwell's 
saying :  '^  A  man  never  rises  so  high  as  when  he  knows 
not  whither  he  is  going."  The  letters  were  in  three  series, 
the  first  addressed  to  young  men,  the  next  to  young 
women,  and  the  third  to  young  married  people.  They 
were  plain,  familiar  talks  on  the  conduct  of  life,  aimed 
neither  too  high  nor  too  low  for  the  average  reader, 
familiar  in  illustration,  pervaded  with  practical  and 
undogmatic  Christianity.  They  met  with  instant  and 
wide  favor.    "When  gathered  into  a  book,  they  had  a 


202     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

sale  which  at  once  gave  Dr.  Holland  rank  with  the 
most  popular  authors  of  the  country.  Many  a  man  and 
woman  to-day  remember  them  with  gratitude.  They 
were  followed  by  other  serials  in  a  like  vein,  which  proved 
equally  popular,  and  won  for  the  Republican  a  new  hold 
on  public  regard. 

These  contributions,  of  which  the  authorship  was  soon 
known,  gained  for  Dr.  Holland  a  personal  reputation  in 
connection  with  the  paper  which  for  a  time  rivaled  that 
of  Mr.  Bowles.  Yet  he  did  not  find  in  daily  journalism 
his  most  congenial  field.  After  1857,  he  gradually  di- 
verted his  labors  into  lecturing  and  book-writing,  and 
his  contributions  to  the  Republican  ceased  entirely  about 
the  year  186-4.  The  culmination  of  his  career  was  as  one 
of  the  founders  and  the  editor-in-chief  of  Scribner's 
Montlihj  (now  The  Century  Magazine).  In  his  later  years, 
sitting  on  a  piazza  overlooking  the  Hudson  with  a  friend, 
he  said,  pointing  to  the  river,  that  his  present  life  was  to 
his  earlier  like  the  Hudson  to  the  Connecticut. 

With  the  exception  of  the  brief  Traveller  episode,  Mr. 
Bowles  was  from  first  to  last  identified  heart  and  soul 
with  the  Republican.  It  was  his  hand  that  shaped  its 
course,  and  assimilated  the  elements  of  its  strength.  It 
is  the  com-se  of  national  events  on  which  the  historian 
of  a  newspaper  naturally  dwells  most,  and  which  was 
always  the  leading  topic  of  the  Republican.  But  the 
paper  was  continually  seeking  other  and  widening  fields. 
Religion,  social  reform,  literature,  nature,  amusements, 
personalities — it  took  them  all  as  its  province.  In  a 
little  country  town  it  presented  the  amplest  range  of 
human  interests ;  it  was  as  broad  and  various  as  human- 
ity. It  drew  from  many  a  worker  who  gave  to  it  the 
best  of  his  heart  and  brain.  But  it  took  its  central 
inspiration  and  distinctive  character  from  one  many- 
sided  and  intensely  vital  man. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Personal  Relations. 

SAM  BOWLES/'  as  he  was  known  to  the  Bepuhlican's 
readers,  and  the  "  Sam  Bowles "  whom  his  friends 
and  acquaintances  knew,  were  the  same,  yet  different.  In 
truth,  if  almost  any  one  of  us  could  be  seen  as  his  image 
exists  in  the  minds  of  different  people, —  if  he  could  be 
seen  successively  as  his  wife  sees  him,  as  his  children, 
his  servants,  his  business  associates,  his  enemies,  his 
intimates,  see  him, —  the  result  would  be  a  portrait  gal- 
lery of  many  different  people,  with  sometimes  not  even 
a  family  resemblance. 

AU  his  readers  recognized  Mr.  Bowles's  power,  but 
all  by  no  means  admired  him.  He  gave  frequent  and 
wide  offense.  Thoughout  the  Connecticut  valley,  the 
sentiment  toward  the  paper  was  a  strange  mixture  of 
admiration,  pride,  and  hostility.  Every  one  wanted  to 
read  it,  and  those  who  declared  they  did  not,  and  stopped 
their  papers,  were  drawn  back  to  read  it  again,  even 
while  they  abused  it.  To  those  who  had  grown  accus- 
tomed to  its  well-flavored  repast,  it  was  a  necessity. 
Any  vigorous  and  outspoken  paper,  like  any  vigorous 
and  outspoken  man,  will  make  enemies.  The  quality  in 
the  Beimhlican  which  roused  most  hostility  was  its  free 
criticisms  upon  institutions,  parties,  and  every  person  and 
event  of   public  concern.     This  freedom  of  judgment, 

203 


204     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

subject  to  no  limitations  save  those  of  truth,  the  editor 
claimed  as  his  right,  asserted  as  his  duty,  and  exercised 
with  a  width  of  range  and  deftness  of  stroke  which  in- 
creased as  the  years  went  on.  There  is  nothing  which 
almost  any  man  so  quickly  resents  as  unfavorable  criti- 
cisms upon  himself,  his  friends,  or  the  institutions  he 
believes  in.  When  the  criticism  is  public,  it  has  a  ten- 
fold sharper  sting.  There  was  not  a  day  in  which  the 
Repiiblican  did  not  touch  something  or  somebody  with 
the  thong  of  its  whip.  Its  vocation  was  to  make  report 
and  comment  on  the  whole  course  of  events,  and  frequent 
blame  was  its  necessity.  If  it  had  been  as  just  as  Omnis- 
cience, it  would  still  have  given  frequent  offense.  Being 
entirely  human  and  fallible,  it  gave  offense  continually. 

By  the  mass  of  the  paper's  readers  this  critical,  sharp- 
speaking  quality  was  probably  regarded  as  the  chief 
characteristic  of  Mr.  Bowles.  But  to  his  personal  ac- 
quaintances he  showed  a  side  as  different  from  this  as 
May  from  January.  Many  of  them  saw  and  felt  both 
sides  by  turns,  but  to  some  he  was  always  May. 

From  the  earliest,  his  family  affections  were  deep-seated 
and  constant.  His  father's  was  one  of  those  New  Eng- 
land households  in  whose  undemonstrative  and  outwardly 
meager  life  the  domestic  attachments  strike  tenacious 
root,  like  pine-trees  in  rocky  soil.  In  later  years  his  own 
family  was  the  first  object  of  his  care  and  the  center  of 
his  dearest  affections.  His  chief  aim  in  life  was  not  to 
make  for  himself  a  career,  a  name,  or  a  fortune,  but  to 
provide  for  the  happiness  of  his  wife  and  his  children.  His 
wife's  aim  in  turn  was  to  make  their  home  above  all  else 
a  resting-place  for  the  husband.  The  habit  and  law  of 
the  house  was  that  "  Father's  "  rest  was  to  be  shielded 
and  made  comfortable.  ''  I  remember,"  says  one  of  the 
children, —  there  were  now  two  daughters  and  a  son, — 
"  how  we  used  to  be  kept  quiet  through  the  early  forenoon. 


PERSONAX,   RELATIONS.  205 

because  Father  was  asleep,  and  how  we  were  taught  to 
look  out  for  the  first  early  delicacies  of  spring,  to  tempt 
his  appetite.  I  recollect  his  late  breakfast, —  Mother 
roasting  oysters  for  him  at  the  gi*ate,  and  we  children 
standing  around  expecting  some  of  the  juice,  like 
open-mouthed  birds."  It  was  not  in  his  nature  to  be  a 
mere  passive  recipient  from  any  one,  least  of  all  from 
those  he  loved  most.  He  charged  himself  with  a  close 
oversight  of  the  welfare  of  wife  and  childi'en.  In  his 
absences,  however  full  of  occupation  he  might  be,  his 
letters  to  his  wife  were  as  constant  and  devoted  as  any 
youthful  lovely's.  At  home,  his  care  for  the  various  in- 
terests of  the  household  was  as  vigilant  as  for  the  man- 
agement of  the  newspaper.  To  spend  and  be  spent,  in 
every  direction,  was  the  law  of  his  life. 

In  some  of  the  chapters  of  this  biography,  extracts 
from  his  domestic  correspondence  are  given  with  a  good 
deal  of  freedom.  It  is  impossible  to  do  justice  to  the 
portraiture  without  giving  these  glimpses  of  the  rich- 
ness and  sweetness  of  his  household  affections.  Were  it 
permissible  to  draw  the  portrait  without  any  reserves, 
the  fuller  light  would  only  bring  out  more  distinctly  the 
fineness  of  the  traits.     Browning  says  : 

"  God  be  thanked,  the  meanest  of  his  creatures 
Boasts  two  soul-sides  —  one  to  face  the  world  with  — 
One  to  show  a  woman  when  he  loves  her." 

And  the  side  which  Mr.  Bowles  showed  to  the  world 
made  no  disclosure  so  fine  as  the  sweeter  side  he  showed 
at  home.  Only  in  that  intimacy  were  fully  revealed 
the  tenderness,  the  patience,  the  seK-control  which  were 
in  him. 

His  sojourn  in  Boston  during  the  Traveller  experi- 
ment was  a  painful  exile  to  him.  He  once  said  to  a 
friend  who  was  about  to  be  married :  "  You  are  going 


206     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

to  live  in  Boston.  Now  you  know  I  once  lived  there 
awhile, —  if  it  was  living, —  and  I  was  about  the  most 
wretched  creature  in  that  little  city.  Social  life  did  not 
touch  me  anywhere,  nor  I  it.  I  want  you,  for  my  sake, 
to  have  an  eye  out  for  such  poor,  forlorn  creatures  as  I 
was, —  away  from  wife,  babies,  everything  that  makes 
life  sweet.  Take  them  in  ;  let  them  sit  by  your  fire,  talk 
about  their  home,  take  xij)  your  children  —  if  you  have 
any  —  and  kiss  them  for  their  own.  I  have  walked 
through  the  streets  in  Boston,  and  seen  families  seated 
at  their  table,  in  the  bright  light,  and  it  seemed  as  if 
I  couldn't  bear  it.  I  wanted  to  ring  the  bell  and  say, 
'  For  heaven's  sake  take  me  in  and  comfort  me.'  Why 
didn't  I  take  letters  of  introduction  ?  I  didn't  believe  in 
them.  I  didn't  wish  to  be  thrust  upon  people  to  dine 
and  wine, —  there  was  my  work  before  them  every  day ; 
my  name  was  in  the  paper.  I  would  not  speak  of  this 
if  it  were  not  to  show  you  where  you  can  tread  in  the 
path  of  the  saints  and  do  good." 

At  home  he  went  between  his  house  and  his  office  with 
hasty  or  with  tired  step ;  tall,  his  head  bent  forward  a 
little ;  with  shaggy,  projecting  brows ;  luminous  dark 
eyes,  that  noted  everything,  and  seemed  always  to  look 
straight  to  the  heart  of  whatever  they  fixed  on;  and 
with  passing  words  of  direct,  alert  address.  In  the 
town  —  which  grew  from  three  thousand  to  thirt^^-five 
thousand  inhabitants  while  he  lived  in  it  —  he  knew  and 
was  known  by  everybody.  Outside  of  the  town  he 
had  a  circle  of  acquaintances  which  widened  until  it 
reached  from  England  to  the  Pacific.  His  main  recrea- 
tion was  traveling,  and  wherever  he  traveled  he  found 
his  chief  interest  in  humanity.  He  would  talk  with 
every  man  upon  his  own  subject,  and  get  all  that  he 
could  give.  He  was  a  master  of  that  supreme  secret 
of  education,  the  art  of  listening.    He  listened  so  recep- 


PERSONAL   RELATIONS.  207 

tively  and  engagingly,  and  the  contact  of  his  mind  was 
so  stimulating,  that  people  as  they  talked  with  him  were 
put  at  their  very  best.  The  characters  thus  opened  to 
his  eye  won  from  him  a  quick  and  warm  admiration  for 
whatever  was  fine  or  lovable.  Thus  from  an  observer 
he  grew  to  be  a  lover. 

In  his  newspaper  he  regarded  himself  as  a  public  censor, 
bound  to  render  to  every  man  his  strict  desert.  In  pri- 
vate life  he  welcomed  to  his  acquaintance  every  man  who 
had  any  attractive  or  interesting  trait.  He  was  as  chari- 
table and  catholic  in  his  personal  relations  as  he  was  in 
his  public  relations  austere.  The  range  of  his  taste  was 
wide :  people  of  high  culture,  plain  country  folks,  states- 
men, backwoodsmen,  artists,  actors,  business  men,  liter- 
ary women,  boys  and  girls,  babies, —  none  came  amiss 
to  him,  so  they  were  genuine  and  human.  He  had  his 
resentments  and  his  quarrels,  but  a  good  lasting  hatred 
he  could  keep  up  against  nobody  except  a  liar  or  a  hum- 
bug. If,  in  any  matter  of  public  moment,  he  saw  in  a 
man  a  single  fault,  the  Bepuhlkan  named  and  blamed  it 
though  the  man  might  possess  all  the  other  virtues.  In 
private  life,  if  a  man  had  one  agreeable  merit,  and  only 
one,  Mr.  Bowles  would  give  him  fellowship  on  the 
strength  of  that.  In  his  newspaper  he  was  a  judge  on 
the  bench ;  out  of  it,  and  toward  the  same  people,  he  was 
the  most  appreciative  and  tolerant  of  companions. 

From  the  plain  and  unpolished  bearing  acquired 
through  his  early  experiences,  he  grew  to  have  at  his 
command  a  singularly  winning  manner.  There  was 
nothing  about  him  of  diffusive  and  cheap  geniality,  no 
stereotyped  or  meaningless  smiles.  He  not  infrequently 
carried  himself  with  a  slight  reserve  and  dignity. 
"  Billy,"  he  said  to  one  of  his  special  friends,  "  why  don't 
people  clap  me  on  the  shoulder,  with  a  '  How  are  you, 
old  feUow,'  as  they  do  you  '?"    ''  Because,"  was  the  plain- 


208     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

spoken  answer,  "you  go  along  with  a  look  that  says 
'Keep  away  from  me — d — n  you!'"  But  this  touch  of 
unconscious  hauteur  belonged  to  his  dyspeptic  turns  more 
than  to  his  habitual  bearing,  and  at  the  worst  was  quick 
to  disappear.  He  could  always  assume  at  will  an  easy 
and  charming  manner.  An  occasional  political  associate 
says:  "When,  in  arranging  some  point  together,  we 
would  see  that  some  man  was  going  to  be  rather  trouble- 
some to  manage,  he  would  say,  'Send  him  up  to  me'; 
and  after  a  talk  with  him  the  man  would  go  away 
pleased  with  himself  and  delighted  to  feel  he  was  doing 
Mr.  Bowles  a  favor."  In  his  visits  to  Washington,  es- 
pecially in  the  later  years  after  the  war,  he  was  on  good 
terms  with  every  one  he  met.  He  would  encounter  some 
congressman  whom  he  had  been  pounding  in  his  paper, 
and  in  half  an  hour  would  have  that  man  his  friend  and 
telling  him  his  secrets.  He  delighted  to  thus  conciliate 
people  whose  friendship  was  of  no  earthly  use  to  him 
except  for  its  own  sake.  This  charming  address  came  to 
be  his  spontaneous  habit  whenever  he  was  free  from 
the  absorption  of  work  and  the  depression  of  suffering 
nerves.  He  conquered  hearts  like  a  charming  woman, 
and  with  a  feminine  sense  of  power  and  pleasiu'C  in  his 
conquests.     Nor  did  he  lightly  abandon  them. 

To  the  world  he  was  a  great  journalist,  but  to  many  a 
man  and  woman  he  was  known  as  the  truest  and  most 
generous  of  friends.  Those  whom  he  loved  felt  that  his 
friendship  was  inspired  by  an  appreciation  of  their  in- 
most self ;  that  he  saw  what  was  best  in  them  and  ideal- 
ized it.  Such  recognition  is  in  itself  one  of  the  dearest 
tributes  and  one  of  the  strongest  inspirations  to  excel- 
lence. His  friends  felt  that  they  were  worth  much  to 
him ;  that  he  counted  on  them,  depended  on  them,  drew 
from  their  friendships  the  fullness  of  his  life. 


PEESONAL   KELATIONS.  209 

He  had  a  great  command  of  the  language  of  affection  ; 
his  letters  sometimes  display  a  mastery  of  what  Dr.  John 
Brown  calls  "  that  language  of  love  which  only  women, 
and  Shakespeare,  and  Luther,  knew  how  to  use."  On 
lighter  occasions  he  could  pay  a  compliment  so  charm- 
ingly that  its  grace  pleased  more  than  the  tribute  to 
self-love.  There  was  ''  just  a  soft  tang  at  the  tip  of  his 
tongue,"  when  he  chose.  But  with  his  real  friends  he 
oftener  used  a  pungent  and  piquant  way  of  speech,  never 
clo\dng  them  with  sweetness.  Where  he  felt  at  home  he 
liked  to  exercise  an  entire  freedom,  and  an  off-hand 
brusqueness  that  had  a  laugh  behind  it.  Said  the  mis- 
tress of  a  house  in  Springfield  where  he  was  a  familiar 
^dsitor :  ''  He  used  to  come  in  for  a  few  moments,  on  his 
way  back  and  forth  between  his  home  and  his  office,  and 
would  perhaps  sit  with  both  legs  hanging  over  the  arm 
of  a  chair,  his  hat  low  down  over  his  eyes,  and  talk  sarse 
as  he  called  it."  Says  another  lady  :  "  I  remember  how 
my  acquaintance  with  an  intimate  friend  began  by  his 
introducing  us  to  each  other  on  the  street, — '  This  is 

Lizzie  R ,  and  this  is  C W ,  one  of  the  Rox- 

bury  saints.  You  are  going  to  be  friends, —  I  ordain 
it, —  I  predict  it.  Now  don't  go  looking  each  other  over, 
but  pitch  in,  and  talk.     Yes,  of  course,' — reading  our 

glances  with  his  quick  eyes — '  Lizzie  R is  orthodox, 

and  you  are  a  kind  of  come-outer,  but  you  will  like  each 
other  for  all  that, —  better  for  that.'  " 

In  his  friendship  he  was  very  free  from  egotism.  He 
sought  to  converse  on  his  friends'  subjects  rather  than 
his  own.  Closely  wedded  as  he  was  to  the  BepuMkanj 
he  left  it  behind  him  when  he  talked  with  his  intimates, 
unless  they  turned  the  conversation  that  way.  With 
some  of  them  he  scarcely  ever  discussed  it ;  there  were 
some  who  even  disliked  the  paper.     This  was  the  senti- 

VOL.  I.— 14 


210     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

ment  of  one  man  who  knew  the  editor  through  twenty- 
five  years,  whose  home  was  his  frequent  resort,  and  who 
said  years  after  his  death :  "  The  two  great  losses  of  my 
life  have  been  my  father  and  Sam  Bowles."  Yet  this 
same  man,  a  New  Englander,  stanch  and  stiff  in  all  his 
convictions  and  prejudices,  said  at  the  same  time,  ''I 
never  liked  his  paper.  I  was  an  old  Whig,  and  after  the 
Repuhlican  left  the  Whigs  it  was  always  ready  to  de- 
nounce them.  Its  course  on  many  subjects  was  distaste- 
ful to  me.  I  pitched  into  him  so  sharply  about  the 
paper  sometimes  that  at  last  my  wife  cautioned  me  to 
stop  or  I  should  endanger  oui'  friendship.  But  Sam 
Bowles  was  to  me  like  a  brother.  I  discussed  with  him 
the  most  intimate  and  personal  affairs  of  my  life."  Said 
another  life-long  friend,  an  active  man  of  affairs,  "  I 
loved  him  as  I  never  loved  any  other  man, —  as  I  never 
supposed  I  couJd  love." 

Henry  L.  Dawes,  in  a  private  letter  written  some  time 
after  his  death,  speaks  thus  of  their  early  intercourse  : 

"  When  I  first  knew  him,  lie  and  I  were  both  young,  and  in 
our  respective  spheres  ardent  and  ambitious.  We  were  never 
tired  of  talking  together  over  our  respective  callings,  some- 
times visionary  in  our  notions,  but  always  sincere.  Notwith- 
standing his  usual  buoyancy  of  spirit  and  courage,  I  have 
known  occasions  when  he  was  ready  to  give  up,  when  he  would 
be  just  as  far  over  on  the  dark  side,  and  everything  and  every- 
body seemed  to  go  wrong.  He  would  come  out  of  these  moods, 
however,  as  the  sun  comes  out  of  a  cloud,  and  hght  up  every 
idea  with  the  briUianey  of  his  conceptions.  In  those  days  he 
used  to  come  up  and  see  me  very  often  [at  North  Adams] ,  and 
on  those  occasions  he  seemed  to  me  to  be  as  entertaining  and 
fascinating  as  at  any  other  period  in  his  life.  His  passion  for 
news,  and  for  currents  of  thought,  which  has  ever  been  the 
distinguishing  characteristic  of  the  Republican,  was  among  the 
earliest  developments  of  his  character.  He  would  go  every- 
where, he  would  write  everywhere,  and  he  would  ask  everybody 


PERSONAL   RELATIONS.  211 

everything,  in  order  to  be  the  first  to  get  sight  or  sound  or 
sign  of  something  new.  Then  he  would  sit  down  and  talk  over 
matters  of  personal  interest  in  one's  private  affairs,  just  as  if 
he  had  nothing  else  to  think  of.  I  never  knew  a  man  who 
knew  him  who  wouldn't  rather  have  him  at  his  table  than  any 
other  man  in  the  world." 

Intercourse  with  him  had  always  the  charm  of  keen 
vitality.  There  was  never  an  empty  word  or  a  dull  mo- 
ment. He  gave  the  kind  of  stimulus  which,  instead  of 
fatiguing,  refreshes  and  cheers.  By  his  unceasing  men- 
tal activity  he  wore  himseK  out ;  for  the  last  twenty 
years  of  his  life  his  nerves  and  stomach  were  in  chronic 
rebellion ;  heavy  clouds,  of  dyspepsia,  sciatica,  sleepless- 
ness, exhaustion,  came  often  and  staid  long.  It  was 
impossible  that  the  shadow  of  these  clouds  should  not 
sometimes  tinge  his  intercourse  with  those  about  him, 
and  the  edge  of  his  suffering  sometimes  wound  others. 
But  whatever  was  felt  of  this  fell  almost  entirely  on 
those  who  were  associated  with  him  in  work  or  business. 
Outside  of  the  paper  and  its  concerns,  he  maintained 
habitually  a  wonderful  kindness  and  good  cheer.  Over- 
worked as  he  was,  other  overworked  people  found  rest 
and  refreshment  in  him.  No  man  under  like  pressure 
ever  "  burned  his  own  smoke  "  more  bravely  and  success- 
fully. His  easy  talk,  with  its  shrewd  comments  and 
quick  wit,  his  sensitiveness  to  nature  and  humanity, 
his  unexacting  cordiality,  his  strength  and  delicacy, 
were  to  a  tired  brain  as  restorative  as  sunshine.  A 
woman  who  sometimes  visited  in  his  family,  a  teacher 
and  writer,  said  :  "I  used  sometimes  to  go  there  when  I 
was  so  jaded  I  felt  as  if  I  could  never  write  anything 
again ;  and  after  a  day  or  two  I  would  come  away 
rested,  all  ready  to  write  an  essay  or  two, —  not  so 
much  from  anything  he  said  as  from  the  vital  impulse 
lie  gave." 


212     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

He  exercised  toward  his  friends  a  considerate  gener- 
osity. He  did  not  wait  for  help  to  be  asked,  but  planned 
and  offered  it  unsought,  in  counsel  and  in  deed.  He  had 
some  friends  who  kept  a  school  in  Springfield,  and 
one  day  coming  to  them,  he  said :  ^'  I  have  learned  that 

Mr. is  to  give   up   his  school "  (a  rival   of  theirs) 

"  at  the  end  of  the  year.  That  will  give  you  a  new  op- 
portunity, and  you  must  meet  it  half-waj',"  —  and  then 
went  on  to  suggest  changes  and  enlargements,  planned 
as  wisely  as  kindly.  A  woman,  worn  to  exhaustion  and 
illness  by  the  hardest  and  best  of  work  as  a  teacher,  was 
taken  by  him  and  his  wife  into  their  home,  nursed  and 
cheered,  until  after  several  weeks  she  went  home  reno- 
vated. His  life  was  full  of  such  acts.  He  learned  that 
an  old  friend  was  embarrassed  in  his  business,  and  going 
to  him  said,  "  I  know  you  are  in  difficulties, —  now,  I  can 
afford  to  do  for  you  so  much,"  naming  a  sum,  "and  I 
want  you  to  take  my  help."  Such  help  he  gave  repeatedly 
even  to  men  who  were  not  his  near  friends.  To  young 
men  especially  he  was  generous  in  lending  his  indorse- 
ment on  their  notes.  He  was  ingenious  and  fertile  in 
benevolence  to  his  friends,  and  aided  them  with  an  un- 
obtrusiveness  and  grace  which  sweetened  the  gift. 

All  old  ties  and  old  associations  were  dear  to  him.  He 
loved  the  familiar  localities,  and  whatever  recalled  the 
early  ways.  "  When  I  go  by  your  house,"  he  said  to  a 
woman,  "  I  always  stop  to  lean  over  your  fence  and  take 
a  good  look  at  your  sarse-garden, — you've  got  the  only 
old-time  sarse-garden  in  Springfield  !  "  The  town  itself, 
its  varied  loveliness  of  view,  the  river,  the  guardian 
hills,  all  had  a  hold  on  his  affection  that  tightened  as 
years  went  by. 

Of  the  men  who  had  relations  with  him  both  as  a 
friend  and  in  the  conduct  of  his  newspaper,  almost  all 
agree  in  saying,   "  There  were   two   men  in  him ;    one 


PERSONAL   RELATIONS.  213 

gracious,   charming,   delightful, — the    other    hard    and 
severe."     The  existence  of  two  opposite  natures  in  one 
man  need  not  appear  strange  to  any  self-observant  per- 
son, who  may  have  found  in  himself  twenty  different 
selves,  resolving  themselves  on  the  whole  into  two  ;  and 
may  have  found  it  to  be  the  chief  and  proper  business  of 
his  life  to  bring  one  of  these  two  selves  into  due  ascend- 
ency over  the  other.     In  Mr.  Bowles's  case,  the  contrast 
between  his  different  sides  had  the  vividness  which  be- 
longed to  his  whole  nature,  so  that  it  impressed  men  as 
something  unique.     His  faults  lay  almost  wholly  on  the 
side  of  self-will  and  pride.     He  was  by  nature  master- 
ful—  fond  of  having  his  own  way  and  the  first  place. 
His  life  as  a  journaUst  in  some  respects  confirmed  that 
disposition.    The  BepuUican^ s  attitude  of  entire  independ- 
ence  sometimes  ran   into   excess   and  caprice.     It  was 
never  servile,  but  it  was  sometimes  arrogant.    In  the  in- 
ternal administration  of  the  paper,  Mr.  Bowles  was,  and 
always  would  be,  master  and  chief;   and  the  man  has 
seldom  lived  in  whom  absolute  mastery  did  not  breed 
something  of  despotism.     Among  his  business  associates 
and  subordinates  he  was  like  a  captain  on  his  quarter- 
deck.    As  soon  as  he  entered  his  office,  his  whole  frame 
seemed  to   grow  tense ;   his   orders  were   directly  and 
briefly  spoken ;   his  mere  presence  kept  the  whole  staff 
up  to  concert  pitch.     His  genial  ease  of  manner  was  laid 
aside  as  a  man  throws  off  his  dressing-gown  to  take  hold 
of  work.     He  did  not  indulge  in  scolding — a  word  or 
look  was   enough.     The   men  who  worked  under  him 
felt  admiration,   loyalty,  and  a  touch  of  fear.     While 
work  was  going  on  they  were  to  him  like  parts  of  the 
great  engine  he  was  driving,   and  he  urged  them   as 
remorselessly  as  he  did  himself.      He  always  meant  to 
be  just,  but  he  had  a  strong  feeling  that  the  Bepubli- 
can   was  his   creation   and  possession,    and   within  its 


214     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

sphere  lie  recognized  no  man's  claims  as  on  an  equality 
with  his  own. 

When  his  personal  friends  received  public  criticism 
from  the  Republican,  it  was  not  in  human  nature  that 
they  should  not  frequently  resent  it.  But,  besides  the 
plea  of  public  duty,  Mr.  Bowles  was  apt  to  assert  in  his 
defense  a  distinction  which  nobody  recognized  but  him- 
seK, —  that  he  was  not  to  be  held  responsible  in  his  private 
capacity  for  the  paper's  utterances.  No  journalist  ever 
identifled  himself  more  closely  with  his  paper ;  yet,  when 
a  friend  complained  of  comments  in  its  columns,  he  would 
answer,  ''  The  Republican  is  one  thing  and  Sam  Bowles  is 
another,  and  you  mustn't  identify  them."  This,  as  the 
aggrieved  person  perfectly  knew,  was  a  distinction  with- 
out a  difference.  Once  engaged  in  combat,  too,  he  always 
became  aggressive  and  struck  hard.  "  The  Republican 
will  not  be  put  on  the  defensive  !  "  he  used  to  say  —  "  We 
shall  carry  the  war  into  Africa."  So,  a  public  retort 
from  a  man  who  felt  himseK  aggrieved  often  drew  out  a 
severer  attack,  and  it  was  when  thus  provoked  that  the 
Republican  said  its  most  unjust  things.  When  the 
quarrel  was  over,  Mr.  Bowles  was  quick  to  forget  and 
ignore  it  —  it  became  to  him  as  though  it  had  not  been. 
He  was  too  proud  to  make  open  amends,  but  his  resent- 
ment quickly  died  away,  his  old  friendliness  returned,  and 
he  looked  for  equal  readiness  on  the  other  side  to  forgive 
and  forget.  It  was  frequently  an  unreasonable  expecta- 
tion. Most  memories  are  as  tenacious  of  an  injury  as  a 
kindness.  An  injury  from  a  friend  seldom  heals  per- 
fectly without  some  open  word  of  reparation  or  regret. 
So,  in  a  long  succession  of  controversies, —  controversies 
which  in  their  public  aspect  were  often  the  Republican's 
best  contributions  to  the  common  good, —  many  a  private 
hurt  was  given,  of  which  the  memory  rankled  in  him 
who  received  it  5  and  from  some  close  friendships  a  bloom 


PEKSONAL   KELATIONS.  215 

was  brushed  which  never  quite  came  back.  This  was 
a  deep  pain  to  him.  And  if  he  gave  some  wounds 
whose  scars  did  not  heal,  it  must  be  said  that  the 
wounds  he  received  —  and  no  man  got  more  hard 
thrusts  —  were  wont  to  heal  quickly  and  kindly.  If  he 
was  loath  to  express  regret  or  reparation,  neither  did  he 
exact  it  from  others.  To  any  overtures  of  reconciliation 
he  made  prompt  and  winning  response.  "  The  pleasant- 
est  man  to  make  uj)  with  that  I  ever  knew,"  said  a  life-long 
acquaintance.  Such  collisions  as  he  had  with  his  friends 
and  acquaintances  were  almost  alwa^^s  connected  in  some 
sort  with  the  Republican.  In  the  conduct  of  the  paper, 
he  meant  to  have  his  own  way.  Its  success  was  the 
object  of  his  life ;  its  character  he  prized  dearly  as  his 
own ;  its  independence  was  his  glory.  Hardly  even  for 
friendship's  sake  would  he  permit  it  to  swerve  a  hair's- 
breadth  from  its  wonted  course.  To  make  an  explicit 
correction,  or  to  withhold  a  piece  of  news  which  he 
thought  the  public  entitled  to,  was  a  great  and  rare  favor. 
A  friend  relates  one  such  experience  with  him.  "  A  man 
here  got  into  a  disreputable  scrape,  and  many  people 
knew  it,  but  the  papers  hadn't  got  hold  of  it.  His  wife 
was  a  good  woman,  and  I  wanted  to  spare  her  the  dis- 
grace of  having  it  all  spread  before  the  world.  So  I  went 
to  Mr.  Bowles,  and,  seeing  he  knew  nothing  of  the  story, 
I  gave  it  all  to  him.  ^  Thank  you,'  said  he,  '  you  have 
given  me  a  valuable  bit  of  news;  we'll  use  it  at  once.' 
Said  I,  '  I  don't  want  you  to  print  it.'  We  argued  a 
while,  but  it  did  no  good.  At  last  I  got  up  from  my 
seat  and  said,  '  Mr.  Bowles,  suppose  your  daughter  had 
married,  and  her  husband  turned  out  a  scoundrel,  and  it 
was  proposed  to  spread  it  all  out  before  the  whole  coun- 
try—  how  would  you  feel?"  He  gave  me  one  of  his 
infernal  looks,  black  as  a  thunder-cloud,  and  said  nothing 
for  half  a  minute  j  then  he  said,  '■  Well,  if  the  other  papers 


216     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

will  say  nothing,  we  will  say  nothing.'  So  it  was  kept 
quiet.  After  that  I'd  have  gone  through  a  block  of 
burning  buildings  for  him  !  " 

He  was  a  man  who  could  unite  an  entire  and  life-long 
loyalty  to  one  woman,  the  partner  of  his  life,  the  mother 
of  his  children,  and  the  mistress  of  his  home,  with 
intimate  and  mutually  helpful  friendships  with  other 
women.  People  often  said  of  him  that  he  was  irreverent, 
but  no  one  who  knew  him  ever  charged  him  with  irrev- 
erence toward  womanhood.  He  honored  good  women, 
he  learned  of  them,  and  he  used  to  say  that  the  best 
wisdom  and  inspiration  of  his  life  had  come  through 
them.  His  attitude  toward  them  in  personal  inter- 
course was  manly  and  delicate.  In  the  homage  he  paid, 
there  was  nothing  of  perilous  sentiment,  no  philandering 
or  flirtation.  He  met  them  with  chivalrous  appreciation 
of  what  was  womanlj^,  and  on  a  footing  of  entire  equality. 
His  closest  intimacies  were  with  women  of  a  characteris- 
tic New  England  type.  There  is  in  that  section  a  class 
of  such  who  inherit  a  fine  intellect,  an  unsparing  con- 
science, and  a  sensitive  nervous  organization ;  whose 
minds  have  a  natural  bent  toward  the  problems  of  the 
soul  and  the  universe  ;  whose  energies,  lacking  the  outlet 
which  business  and  public  affairs  give  to  their  brothers, 
are  constantly  turned  back  upon  the  interior  life,  and 
who  are  at  once  stimulated  and  limited  by  a  social 
environment  which  is  serious,  virtuous,  and  deficient  in 
gayety  and  amusement.  There  is  naturally  developed  in 
them  high  mental  power,  and  almost  morbid  conscien- 
tiousness, while,  especially  in  the  many  cases  where  they 
remain  unmarried,  the  fervor  and  charm  of  womanhood 
are  refined  and  sublimated  from  personal  objects  and 
devoted  to  abstractions  and  ideals.  They  are  platonic 
in  their  attachments,  and  speculative  in  their  religion ; 


PEESONAL   RELATIONS.  217 

intense  rather  than  tender,  and  not  so  much  soothing 
as  stimulating.  By  the  influence  of  such  women  Mr. 
Bowles's  later  life  was  colored — his  views  were  broad- 
ened, his  thoughts  refined,  his  friendships  exercised  in 
offices  of  helpfulness  and  sympathy.  By  their  acquaint- 
ance he  was  educated  to  a  conviction  of  the  entii'e  equal- 
ity of  the  feminine  with  the  masculine  mind,  and  its  claim 
to  an  equal  place  in  shaping  the  public  and  private  life  of 
the  community,  as  well  as  its  need  of  larger  outlet  and 
freer  scope  than  society  had  hitherto  assigned  to  it. 

Among  the  strongest  shaping  influences  of  his  life 
were  those  of  the  men  and  women  with  whom  he  came 
into  intimacy.  The  formation  of  these  friendships  was 
among  the  chief  epochs  of  his  history.  He  owed  to  them 
something  like  that  which  the  Mississippi  owes  to  the 
Missouri,  the  Ohio,  and  all  the  streams  that  swell  its 
waters  from  their  early  obscurity  to  an  imperial  flood. 
He  was  indebted  less  than  most  intellectual  men  to 
books.  Newspapers  were  his  chief  literary  food;  and 
newspapers,  with  all  they  teach,  teach  but  little  of  the 
heights  and  depths  of  humanity,  and  hint  but  scantily 
at  its  sublimity  and  tenderness.  These  higher  lessons 
he  learned  by  what  was  wrought  out  in  him  as  he  man- 
fully did  his  work  and  bore  his  burden,  and  in  no  small 
degree  from  the  human  souls  which  opened  their  wealth 
to  his  insight  and  sympathy. 

He  gave  his  friends  of  his  very  best  in  thought  and 
labor,  but  above  all  other  gifts  was  contact  with  his  own 
vital,  fructifying  personality.  All  analysis  will  seem 
cold  and  all  praise  meager  to  those  who  knew  and  loved 
him  best.  Their  common  sentiment  toward  him  was 
expressed  by  one  who  wrote,  '^  Not  to  see  you  some- 
times, not  to  hear  from  you,  is  a  kind  of  eclipse."  There 
were  not  a  few  whose  feeling  was  akin  to  that  expressed 


218     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

by  a  Massachusetts  judge,  now  dead,  who  wrote  to  him 
after  a  critical  illness : 

"  As  you  know  better  than  any  one  else,  I  do  beheve  I  should 
have  gone  over  the  dam  from  sheer  depression,  but  for  my  wife 
and  the  cheerful  words  of  half  a  dozen  friends,  of  whom  I  put 
your  name  first  on  the  hst.  God  bless  you  for  that,  Sam  Bowles ! 
Now,  I  don't  think  you  have  committed  many  sins  in  the  Re- 
publican "  (this  was  in  1873,  after  the  paper  had  brought  on 
itself  wrath  and  tribulation  by  its  support  of  Greeley).  **  There 
is  the  same  old  tone  to  your  paper,  always  on  the  side  of  honor 
and  honesty,  and  I  stand  by  you  even  in  your  mistakes,  if  they 
are  mistakes.  But  you  may  perpetrate  what  you  please  from 
now  till  doomsday,  in  the  columns  of  your  paper, — you  shall 
never  make  me  feel  you  are  any  other  than  the  kind  sympa- 
thetic friend,  who  took  his  friend  by  the  hand  and  with  singu- 
lar appreciation  of  his  condition  ministered  to  him  as  no  one 
else  could." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

The  Dred  Scott  Decision. —  The  Lecompton 
Constitution. 

IT  was  under  Buchanan's  administration  that  the  tide 
turned  decisively  against  slavery.  His  election  was 
its  last  victory.  He  was  elected  by  an  alliance  of  three 
powers, —  the  slaveholding  interest,  the  Northern  Demo- 
cratic party,  and  those  Northern  conservatives  who 
dreaded  a  sectional  and  aggressive  tendency  in  the  Re- 
publicans. His  inauguration  was  closely  followed  by  a 
decision  of  the  Democratic  Supreme  Court  which  was  a 
shock  to  all  real  conservatives.  His  Administration  gave 
countenance  to  such  usurpation  in  Kansas  that  a  revolt 
was  provoked  among  Northern  Democrats.  Then  John 
Brown's  attack  on  Harper's  Ferry  filled  the  South  with 
fears  of  Northern  invasion  and  negro  insurrection.  This 
was  the  logic  of  events  which  united  the  North,  and  by 
its  vote  chose  a  Republican  president,  and  led  the  South 
to  leave  the  Union  in  which  it  had  lost  the  mastery. 

President  Buchanan's  inaugural,  on  the  fourth  of 
March,  affirmed  the  right  of  the  people  of  a  territory 
to  determine  their  institutions ;  but  as  to  whether  that 
right  was  to  be  exercised  prior  to  their  action  in  organiz- 
ing a  state  government, —  the  only  real  point  of  con- 
troversy,—  he  referred  deferentially  to  the  arbitrament 
of  the   Supreme   Court.     On  the   sixth  of  March  the 

219 


220     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

Court  pronounced  its  decision  on  a  suit  whicli  it  had 
long  held  under  consideration.  It  was  brought  on  an 
appeal  to  determine  the  status  of  Dred  Scott,  a  slave  in 
Missouri,  who,  twenty  years  before,  had  been  taken  by 
his  master  into  the  free  state  of  Illinois  for  a  term  of 
residence,  and  also  to  Fort  Suelling  on  the  Mississippi, 
within  the  territory  where  by  the  Missouri  compromise 
slavery  was  prohibited  ;  and  who  now  as  plaintiff  in  this 
suit  claimed  that  he  was  made  legally  a  free  man  when 
his  master  took  him  upon  free  soil.  The  Court's  decision, 
stripped  of  all  technicalities,  was  to  this  effect :  it  dis- 
missed the  case  for  want  of  jurisdiction,  on  the  ground 
that  no  person  who  was  of  slave  descent  or  African 
blood  could  ever  be  a  citizen  of  the  United  States,  or 
have  a  right  to  sue  in  the  courts.  Nevertheless,  the 
Court  proceeded  to  discuss  the  grounds  on  which  the 
plaintiff  claimed  his  freedom,  and  declared  that  the  pro- 
hibition of  slavery  north  of  36°  30'  was  unconstitutional 
and  void,  Congress  having  no  power  to  exclude  slavery 
from  the  national  territories.  As  to  the  effect  of  the 
residence  of  a  slave,  by  his  masters  will,  in  the  free  state 
of  Illinois,  followed  by  a  return  to  the  slave  state  of 
Missouri,  the  Court  held  that  the  question  belonged  to 
the  Missouri  courts,  and  that  their  renderings  were 
adverse  to  the  claim  of  freedom.*  There  was  a  consider- 
able division  among  the  judges  as  to  various  points  in 
the  decision,  and  Justices  Curtis  and  McLean  —  the  two 
Northern  Whigs  upon  the  bench  —  dissented  emphatic- 
ally both  from  its  reasoning  and  its  conclusions.  The 
chief  spokesman  of  the  majority  of  the  Court  was  Chief- 
justice  Taney.  His  dictum,  that  no  person  of  African 
descent  could  become  an  American  citizen,  was  based 
on  the  inferior  and  degraded  condition  in  which  these 

*  Dred  Scott  afterward  became  the  property  of  a  daughter  of  his  master, 
and  was  by  her  manumitted. 


THE   DEED   SCOTT   DECISION.  221 

people  were  held  when  the  Declaration  of  Independ- 
ence and  the  Constitution  were  adopted,  they  being 
regarded  at  that  time,  said  the  chief -justice,  "  as  so  far 
inferior  that  they  had  no  rights  which  the  white  man 
was  bound  to  respect " ;  so  that  there  could  have  been 
no  intent  to  include  them  in  the  "  all  men  "  of  the  Decla- 
ration, and  similar  phraseology.  The  unconstitutionality 
of  the  Missouri  compromise  was  maintained  by  an  argu- 
ment which  was  thus  tersely  summed  up  by  Lincoln : 
The  Constitution  of  the  United  States  forbids  Congress 
to  deprive  a  man  of  his  property  without  due  process  of 
law ;  the  right  of  property  in  slaves  is  distinctly  implied 
in  the  Constitution ;  therefore,  if  Congress  shall  under- 
take to  say  that  a  man's  slave  is  no  longer  a  slave  when  he 
crosses  a  certain  line  into  a  territory,  that  is  equivalent 
to  depriving  him  of  his  property  without  trial  or  verdict. 
The  whole  dispute  as  to  slavery  under  the  Constitution 
is  involved  in  this  statement  of  the  master's  claim,  ad- 
mitted thus  by  the  Supreme  Court,  Once  granted  that 
a  man's  slave  was  absolutely  his  property, —  as  much  so 
as  his  horse, — and  his  right  to  take  him  into  the  national 
territory,  just  as  he  might  take  his  horse,  was  indispu- 
table. That  a  slave  was  in  this  absolute  sense  his  prop- 
erty, was,  to  the  slave-holder's  mind,  a  fact  beyond  denial 
or  doubt.  The  answer  was,  that  a  slave  was  property 
only  by  the  creation  of  local  law,  and  that  when  a  slave- 
holder took  his  human  chattel  into  a  territory,  he  did 
not  carry  with  him  that  state  law  by  which  alone,  in 
exception  to  the  general  usage  of  mankind,  property 
in  man  was  recognized.  As  to  the  other  main  point  of 
the  decision,  that  negroes  were  incapable  of  American 
citizenship  because  that  incapacity  existed  at  the  era  of 
the  Constitution,  Justice  Curtis  pointed  out  that  at  that 
period  free  negroes  had  the  right  of  suffrage  in  five  of 
the  thirteen  states. 


222     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

But,  whether  on  just  grounds  or  not,  the  highest 
Court  in  the  nation  had  decided  that  no  negro  could  be 
an  American  citizen,  and  that  slavery  could  not  be 
legally  excluded  by  Congress  from  any  territory.  How 
that  decision  was  received  by  moderate  men  at  the 
North,  may  be  illustrated  by  the  Republican's  editorial  of 
March  11 : 

"  We  cannot  overrate  the  significance  of  the  recent  opinion 
of  the  majority  of  the  Supreme  Court,  as  given  in  the  case  of 
Dred  Scott.  The  history  of  judicial  decisions  in  this  country 
contains  nothing  so  important  as  this.  .  .  .  The  case  on 
which  the  new  opinions  were  given  did  not  necessarily  caU  for 
them.  It  could  have  been  disposed  of  without  discussing  or 
disturbing  the  great  principles  of  slavery  which  the  Court  has 
Tindertaken  to  settle.  .  .  .  The  majority  of  the  Court  there- 
fore rushed  needlessly  to  their  conclusions,  and  are  justly  open 
to  the  suspicion  of  being  induced  to  pronounce  them  by  parti- 
san or  sectional  influences.  The  decision  was  of  the  utmost 
importance  to  the  slavery  interest  and  to  the  Democratic  party, 
as  based  upon  it.  They  were  in  desperate  circumstances.  The 
present  territories  of  the  country  are  almost  certain  to  become 
free  states.  Nothing  but  violence  can  prevent  them  from  com- 
ing to  this  decision."  The  new  rule,  the  paper  proceeds,  is 
designed  for  practical  effect  more  especially  in  those  further 
acquisitions  of  territory  in  Mexico  and  Cuba  which  the  slavery 
interest  is  bent  on  gaining.  But,  "  the  expectations  of  the  per- 
petrators of  the  new  scheme  for  protecting  and  advancing 
slavery,  that  it  will  be  acquiesced  in  by  the  country  because  it 
is  the  voice  of  the  Supreme  Court,  will  not  be  realized.  It  will 
widen  and  deepen  rather  than  aUay  agitations.  It  wih  be 
heeded  in  practice  only  by  those  who  approve  of  it  in  theory. 
The  people  are  the  court  of  last  resort  in  this  country.  They 
wiU  discuss  and  review  the  action  of  the  Supreme  Court,  and  if 
it  presents  itself  in  a  practical  question  will  vote  against  it." 

The  Dred  Scott  decision  showed  how  far  the  forms  of 
law  could  be  wrested,  not  only  against  justice  and  hu- 


THE  DEED   SCOTT  DECISION.  223 

manity,  but  against  the  traditions  and  spirit  of  judicial 
procedure.  The  authority  of  the  Court  was  invoked  by 
a  trick  which  removed  the  mooted  questions  from  the 
arena  of  legislative  and  popular  debate,  where  the  people 
were  giving  judgment  against  slavery.  The  weakness  of 
the  decision,  from  a  purely  legal  standpoint,  was  thus 
characterized  by  the  Bepuhlican  (March  18) : 

"  There  was  but  one  question  before  the  Court,  and  that  was 
a  question  concerning  its  own  juiisdiction  in  the  case.  In  fact, 
the  Court  gave  no  judgment  and  simply  dismissed  the  case  for 
want  of  jurisdiction.  .  .  .  There  is  probably  no  rule  ui  law 
more  firmly  established  and  widely  recognized,  than  that  the 
opinion  of  any  court,  touching  any  question  outside  of  that  be- 
fore it,  is  of  no  binding  force  whatever.  The  question  before 
the  Court  was  whether  it  had  any  jurisdiction  in  the  case.  It 
decided  that  it  had  not.  Everything  beyond  this  uttered  by 
the  Court  is  just  as  binding  as  if  it  was  uttered  by  a  Southern 
debating  club,  and  no  more.  It  undoubtedly  shows  how  the 
Court  will  decide  in  cases  involving  the  questions  which  it 
argues,  and  this  gives  its  extra-judicial  opinions  their  only  power 
and  significance." 

These  quotations  illustrate  the  general  temper  of  the 
free  states.  The  New  York  legislature  promptly  enacted 
that  neither  color  nor  African  descent  shall  disqualify 
from  citizenship ;  that  every  slave  brought  by  his  master 
into  the  state  becomes  free  ;  and  that  any  attempt  to  re- 
tain such  persons  as  slaves  shall  be  punished  by  from 
two  to  ten  years'  imprisonment.  It  passed  a  resolution 
declaring  that  the  Supreme  Court  has  lost  the  confidence 
and  respect  of  the  people.  A  year  later,  Seward  said  in 
the  Senate :  '^  The  people  of  the  United  States  never  can 
and  never  will  accept  principles  so  unconstitutional, 
so  abhorrent.  Never,  never !  Let  the  Court  recede. 
Whether  it  recede  or  not,  we  shall  reorganize  the  Coui't, 
and  thus  reform  its  political  sentiment  and  practices  and 


224     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

bring  them  in  harmony  with  the  Constitution,  and  with 
the  laws  of  Nature."  Lincoln  said  at  Quincy  in  1858 
that  while  the  Republican  party  did  not  propose  to  de- 
clare that  Dred  Scott  was  a  free  man,  they  did  not  believe 
the  Court's  decision  was  a  political  rule  binding  the  voters, 
Congress,  or  the  President ;  and  they  intended  so  oppos- 
ing it  as  to  have  it  reversed  if  possible,  and  a  new  judicial 
rule  established  on  the  subject. 

President  Buchanan  surrounded  himself  with  a  cabinet 
as  much  identified  with  Southern  interests  as  his  prede- 
cessor's. Its  members  were  Lewis  Cass,  Isaac  Toucey,  and 
Jeremiah  S.  Black,  from  the  North,  and  Howell  Cobb, 
Jacob  Thompson,  Aaron  V.  Brown,  and  John  B.  Floyd, 
from  the  South.  He  was  a  very  weak  man,  despotic,  but 
without  the  skill  to  rule ;  arbitrary  when  he  should  have 
been  tolerant,  and  yielding  when  he  should  have  been 
firm.  He  sought  to  enforce  a  rigid  party  discipline,  and 
to  that  end  made  freest  use  of  all  the  weapons  of  patron- 
age ;  but  he  had  not  the  breadth  or  tact  to  harmonize  his 
party,  nor  the  strength  to  keep  his  own  pledges.  He 
held  a  strongly  Southern  view  of  the  Constitution,  and 
lent  himself  to  an  unscrupulous  scheme  to  make  Kansas 
a  slave  state.  He  had  no  sympathy  with  the  disunion- 
ists,  but  he  was  utterly  powerless  to  cheek  their  intrigues. 
He  was  the  luckless  mariner  who  opened  the  bags  of 
^olus,  and  the  storms  which  issued  drove  the  ship  far 
over  seas. 

Governor  Geary  had  done  his  best  to  promote  justice 
in  Kansas,  but  found  himself  abandoned  by  President 
Pierce,  and  resigned  just  as  the  new  Administration  came 
in.  For  his  successor,  Mr.  Buchanan  selected  Robert  J. 
Walker,  of  Mississippi,  a  man  of  character  and  ability. 
Walker  was  very  unwilling  to  take  the  place,  for  it  had 
been  the  political  ruin  of  every  man  who  had  held  it.  But 
the  President  gave  him  the  strongest  assurances  that  he 


THE  LECOMPTON   CONSTITUTION.  225 

should  be  supported  in  giving  the  Kansas  people  a  per- 
fectly fair  opportunity  to  organize  their  own  institutions. 
Thus  fortified,  Walker  went  to  Kansas.  The  usurping 
legislature  had  provided  for  the  election  of  a  convention 
to  form  a  state  constitution.  The  delegates  were  to  be 
appointed  upon  the  basis  of  a  census,  which  the  legisla- 
ture intrusted  to  certain  county  officials.  In  many  of 
the  counties  the  free-state  party  disowned  altogether 
the  existing  territorial  organization,  and  kept  the  form 
of  a  state  government,  under  a  constitution  framed  by 
themselves  at  Topeka,  so  that  there  were  no  officials 
recognized  as  competent  to  take  the  census.  For  the 
approaching  convention,  no  voters  were  registered  and  no 
representation  allotted  in  fifteen  out  of  the  thirty-four 
counties  ;  thus  half  the  territory  was  disfranchised,  and  a 
predominance  was  given  to  the  districts  which  lay  con- 
veniently for  an  invasion  from  Missouri.  This  confirmed 
the  disposition  of  the  free-state  party  to  keep  wholly 
aloof  from  all  proceedings  instituted  by  the  territorial 
legislature.  The  new  governor  did  his  utmost  to  induce 
them  to  take  part  in  the  coming  election,  but  as  he  was 
powerless  to  change  the  apportionment,  his  appeals  were 
unheeded.  The  convention  was  elected  by  a  very  small 
vote,  and  postponed  its  action  for  a  time.  In  the  interval 
came  the  election  of  a  new  territorial  legislature.  Wal- 
ker's appeals  and  assurances  to  the  free-state  men 
began  to  take  effect.  Senator  Wilson  had  visited  Kansas 
and  counseled  with  the  leaders,  and  given  them  the 
shrewd  advice  of  a  practical  politician, —  to  take  part  in 
the  legislative  election,  trusting  to  their  overwhelming 
numbers  even  under  the  unfair  apportionment ;  and  to 
get  hold  of  the  working  machinery  of  government, 
rather  than  stand  too  long  on  theory  and  punctilio. 
Most  of  them  finally  followed  this  course,  and  in  Octo- 
ber, at  a  peaceful  and  undisputed  election,  in  which  both 
Vol.  I.— 15 


226     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

parties  participated,  the  free-state  men,  by  a  majority 
of  two  to  one,  carried  both  houses  of  the  legislature. 
But  the  fruits  of  their  victory  were  snatched  at.  From 
the  Oxford  precinct  —  a  place  with  eleven  houses  —  a 
return  was  sent  in  with  the  names  of  1624  persons; 
copied,  as  it  turned  out,  in  alphabetical  order  from  a 
Cincinnati  directory.  An  equally  fraudulent  document 
was  sent  in  from  McGee  County.  The  two  would  have 
transferred  the  balance  of  power  in  the  legislature. 
Both  these  returns  were  rejected  by  Governor  Walker. 
The  authority  was  used  against  him  of  the  territorial 
Chief -justice  Cato, —  a  creature  of  the  Administration, 
like  his  predecessor  Lecompte, —  but  the  governor  dis- 
owned his  jurisdiction  in  the  premises.  From  this  time 
the  Administration  threw  its  whole  weight  against  the 
governor. 

The  convention  met  at  Lecompton  and  drew  up  a 
constitution,  in  which  was  one  section  affirming  that  the 
ownership  of  slaves  was  a  right  of  property,  higher  than 
any  constitution,  and  inviolable  ;  and  forbidding  legisla- 
tion hostile  to  such  ownership.  Among  the  other  pro- 
visions, one  forbade  the  residence  of  free  negroes  in  the 
state,  and  another  prohibited  any  amendment  of  the 
constitution  before  1864.  The  convention  ordered  that 
a  vote  of  the  people  should  be  taken,  not  on  the  accept- 
ance or  rejection  of  the  constitution,  but  as  between 
"  constitution  with  slavery"  and  ''constitution  without 
slavery."  Except  this  single  section,  the  whole  organic 
law  of  the  new  state  was  assumed  as  fixed  and  beyond 
amendment  for  six  years,  by  the  convention  itself — a 
body  whose  authority  most  of  the  people  disowned,  and 
in  whose  election  only  a  small  minority  had  taken  part. 
The  free-state  men  refused  to  sanction  this  proceeding 
by  taking  any  part  in  the  vote  on  the  slavery  clause. 
They  staid  away  from  the  polls,   so  that,  practically 


THE   LECOMPTON    CONSTITUTION.  227 

without  opposition,  the  slavery  clause  was  fixed  in  the 
Leeompton  eonsi;itution. 

The  Administration  now  bent  all  its  energies  to  obtain 
the  admission  of  the  state  by  Congress,  under  that  con- 
stitution. Already  discontent  was  finding  loud  voice 
within  the  party.  Strong  appeals  were  made  to  the 
President,  by  men  like  Forney, —  to  whom  probably, 
beyond  any  one  else,  he  owed  the  decisive  vote  of  Penn- 
sylvania,—  not  to  make  Leeompton  the  test  of  party 
fidelity.  But  Buchanan  was  obstinate,  misled  by  the 
flatteries  of  office-holders  and  office-seekers,  and  wholly 
committed  to  the  effort  to  make  Kansas  a  slave  state. 
In  December  he  forced  Walker  into  resignation,  but 
the  governor,  in  an  indignant  letter,  exposed  the  Pres- 
ident's treachery  to  him,  narrated  his  own  policy  of 
reconcilement  and  justice,  and  declared  that  *'  insurrec- 
tion and  civil  war,  extending,  he  feared,  throughout  the 
country,  were  alone  prevented  by  the  com'se  pursued  by 
him ;  and  the  whole  people,  abandoning  revolutionary 
violence,  were  induced  by  him  to  go  for  the  first  time 
into  a  general  and  peaceful  election." 

It  was  amid  the  rising  of  these  angry  clouds,  toward 
the  end  of  1857,  that  Mr.  Bowles  took  again  the  laboring 
oar  in,  the  Repuhlican.  Congress  was  just  assembling, 
with  a  Democratic  majority  in  both  Houses.  The  situa- 
tion was  perilous.  While  the  struggle  was  going  on  in 
Congress,  February  8,  1858,  the  Repuhlican,  never  an 
alarmist,  said:  "It  seems  to  us  that  the  issue  of  civil 
war  is  involved  in  the  questions  which  now  agitate  the 
country."  The  course  of  wrong,  it  continues,  has  gone 
on  step  by  step,  till  forcible  resistance  seems  near  at 
hand.  "  All  these  operations  are  like  the  demonstrations 
of  a  problem  in  Euclid.  A  moral  certainty  is  made  of 
as  stern  and  unrelenting  stuff  as  a  mathematical ;  and 
so  truly  as  this  Leeompton  constitution  is  attempted  to 


228     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

be  forced  on  the  people  of  Kansas,  and  the  people  of 
Kansas,  driven  to  the  wall,  retain  their  manhood,  will 
there  be  a  civil  war,  for  which  alone  the  Administration 
will  be  responsible." 

Either  from  such  an  issue,  or  from  the  political  sub- 
jugation of  Kansas,  the  only  resource  lay  in  a  division 
of  the  Democratic  party.  When  Congress  met,  it  was 
known  that  Douglas  was  hostile  to  the  Lecompton 
scheme,  and  might  even  break  with  the  Administration 
upon  the  question.  "  Mr.  Douglas,"  said  the  Repullkan, 
December  1,  1857,  ''  better  than  any  other  man,  now 
stands  in  a  position  to  dispose  of  the  Kansas  question  at 
once  and  forever ;  while  in  doing  so,  he  would  go  far  to- 
ward installing  himself  in  the  confidence  and  respect  of 
the  country,  without  regard  to  party.  He  has  heretofore 
turned  toward  the  public  his  demagogue  side ;  he  has 
now  but  to  show  some  of  the  qualities  of  the  statesman, 
to  be  useful  alike  to  the  country  and  himself." 

When  a  few  days  later  the  President  in  his  message 
declared  unreservedly  in  favor  of  the  Lecompton  scheme, 
the  BeimUican  said  that  he  had  lost  the  golden  chance 
for  leading  the  party  to  throw  off  the  yoke  of  the  South- 
ern extremists,  and  the  opportunity  of  the  future  lay 
again  with  the  Republicans. 

''  But  to  occupy  this  position  they  must  open  wide  their 
doors,  accept  new  leaders,  and  cease  leveling  the  Philadelphia 
platform,  revolver-like,  at  everybody  who  seeks  admission  into 
their  ranks.  They  must  make  it  easy  for  old  opponents  to  join 
them.  Mr.  Buchanan's  assumption  of  the  quarrels  and  rascah- 
ties  of  Fernando  Wood  has  already  given  them  New  York  City. 
Forney  can  transfer  to  them  Pennsylvania,  Douglas  holds  out 
lUinois  and  Indiana.  Blair  has  Missouri  already  ;  Bell  can  give 
them  Tennessee,  and  mayhap  Bi-eckinridge  will  offer  Kentucky, 
and  Wise,  Virginia,  while  Kenneth  Raynor  is  eager  to  transfer 
North  Carolina,  and  New  Orleans's  attachment  to  the  Union 


THE   LECOMPTON   CONSTITUTION.  229 

will  sm*ely  give  them  Louisiana.  The  Administration,  in 
omitting  its  golden  opportunity,  has  thi'ust  another  before 
its  opponents.  Will  they  rival  its  stupidity  or  profit  by  its 
blunder  ?  " 

Such  a  programme  was  very  characteristic  of  Mr. 
Bowles, — critical  of  associates,  hospitable  to  opponents, 
impatient  of  party  lines,  and  eager  for  new  combinations. 
But  the  central  figure  in  the  kaleidoscopic  picture  — 
Douglas  as  a  Republican  leader — was  at  this  time  at- 
tracting many  of  the  wise  men  of  the  party.  Douglas 
took  issue  with  the  Administration  on  the  Lecompton 
question,  and  carried  with  him  enough  followers  to 
render  the  battle  in  Congress  a  doubtful  one  up  to  the 
very  end.  Meantime,  very  friendly  relations  were  estab- 
lished, though  no  open  alliance,  between  him  and  the 
Republican  leaders  at  Washington.  In  truth,  Douglas 
was  a  coarse-grained,  self-seeking  man,  to  whom  politics 
was  merely  a  game  of  personal  advancement.  He  had 
for  many  years  been  subservient  to  the  Southern  interest ; 
he  had  proposed  the  repeal  of  the  Missouri  compromise, 
and  had  sustained  the  usurping  Kansas  legislature,  and 
the  whole  course  of  slavery  propagandism  in  the  terri- 
tory, until  the  refusal  to  submit  the  constitution  to  a 
vote  of  the  people.  For  him  to  assent  to  this  last  out- 
rage would  have  been  a  self-confessed  abandonment  of 
every  vestige  of  that  "  popular  sovereignty  "  which  had 
been  his  whole  stock  in  trade  before  the  Northern 
people.  He  saw  that  the  tide  was  turning  at  the  North, 
and  his  place  in  the  Senate  depended  upon  a  reelec- 
tion in  the  following  year.  In  the  winter  of  1857-8  he 
opposed  the  Administration  upon  its  leading  measure, 
and  induced  such  party  chiefs  as  AVilson,  Colfax,  and 
Burliugame,  and  such  editors  as  Greeley  and  Bowles,  to 
warmly  favor  his  return  to  the  Senate  unopposed  by  the 
Republicans. 


230     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

The  struggle  in  Congress  was  long  and  sharp.  Finally 
the  Senate  voted  to  admit  Kansas  under  the  Lecompton 
constitution.  Senator  Crittenden,  of  Kentucky,  elected 
as  an  American,  and  one  of  the  best  representatives  of 
the  moderate  Southern  sentiment,  had  proposed  a  bill, 
submitting  the  constitution  to  a  direct  vote  of  the 
people,  its  acceptance  to  be  followed  by  immediate  ad- 
mission, or  its  rejection  by  the  choice  of  a  new  constitu- 
tional convention.  This  bill,  defeated  in  the  Senate,  was 
in  substance  passed  by  the  House,  the  Republicans  and 
their  friends  supporting  it.  A  committee  of  conference 
was  appointed ;  for  a  while  each  House  insisted  on  its 
own  measui'e ;  finally  the  committee  reported  a  singular 
compromise.  Mr.  English,  of  Indiana,  who  had  hitherto 
been  a  leader  among  the  Douglas  Democrats  in  the  House, 
was  the  author  of  this  measui'e,  which  was  known  as  the 
"  English  bill " ;  and  it  was  accepted  by  the  Administra- 
tion party,  as  the  best  they  could  get;  while  enough 
Anti-Lecompton  men  supported  it  to  secure  its  passage 
through  both  Houses, —  Douglas  and  a  part  of  his  allies 
uniting  with  the  Republicans  in  opposing  it.  Its  pur- 
port was  the  submission  of  the  entire  constitution  to  a 
vote  of  the  people;  if  they  accepted  it  Kansas  was  to 
immediately  become  a  state,  and  to  receive  an  immense 
land  grant  from  the  general  government ;  while  if  they 
rejected  it,  the  territory  was  not  to  become  a  state  till 
it  had  the  full  population  requisite  for  a  representative 
in  the  House, — 93,340, —  and  no  land  grant  was  offered. 
It  is,  said  the  Be2mbUcan  (April  22), 

"  An  attempt  to  drive  the  people  of  the  territory  into  assum- 
ing for  themselves  what  the  Administration  has  failed  to  force 
upon  them ;  and  the  hopes  of  its  success  with  them  are  based 
on  the  supposition  that  a  majority  of  the  voters  care  more 
for  getting  into  the  Union,  and  fingering  the  rich  grants  of 


THE  LECOMPTON   CONSTITUTION.  231 

land  offered  as  a  bribe,  than  they  do  for  their  own  consistency, 
honor,  and  inherent  right  to  fashion  their  own  institutions." 

The  English  bill  was  in  appearance  a  lame  and  illogical 
conclusion  to  a  great  controversy.  But,  substantially,  it 
was  a  half -retreat  from  the  four  years'  struggle  to  make 
Kansas  a  slave  state.  The  election  under  the  bill  a  few 
months  later  was  the  end  of  the  contest.  The  Lecomp- 
ton  constitution  was  defeated  by  a  heavy  majority.  The 
destiny  of  the  state  was  too  obvious  to  be  longer  resisted, 
and  Kansas  ceased  to  be  a  battle-ground.  A  new  consti- 
tution was  framed  at  Wyandotte,  ratified  by  the  people, 
and  the  final  admission  of  the  state  —  delayed  by  a  suUen 
Democratic  opposition  — was  effected  when  the  departure 
of  the  seceding  Southern  members  left  the  Republicans 
with  a  majority  in  the  Senate,  as  well  as  in  the  House, 
in  the  winter  of  1860-'61.  The  effort  to  make  it  a  slave 
state  had  resulted  in  making  it  not  only  free,  but  the 
most  tenaciously  Republican  state  in  the  Union. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

DouGXiAS  AND  Lincoln. 

"  T"T  was  notorious  among  well-informed  politicians," 
J-  said  the  Eepublican  of  March  15,  1860,  "  that  for 
weeks  and  months  " —  early  in  1858  —  "  Mr,  Douglas 
was  in  full  consultation  with  leading  Republicans  at 
Washington,  openly  seeking  their  influence  to  get  the 
Illinois  Republicans  to  make  no  opposition  to  his  re- 
election, and  making  plenty  of  promises  for  cooperation 
to  depose  not  only  the  Administration  but  the  '  power 
behind  it.'  It  was,  '  we  could  do  this,  and  we  would  do 
that.'  All  the  leading  Eastern  Republicans  responded  to 
his  ideas ;  nearly  every  Republican  senator,  and  most  of 
the  representatives,  were  desirous  that  the  Republicans 
should  withhold  their  fight,  and  let  Mr.  Douglas  come 
back  to  the  Senate  with  the  Republican  mark  upon  him. 
He  sought  this  himself  in  every  way  consistent  with  the 
outside  independent  position  which  he  had  taken,  and 
which  was  necessary  to  his  purpose  of  dividing  and 
breaking  down  the  Democratic  party.  But  the  Illinois 
Republicans  could  not  if  they  would,  and  perhaps  would 
not  if  they  could."  Now  that  the  lives  of  Douglas  and 
Lincoln  are  finished,  it  is  easy  for  us  to  pronounce 
wisely  on  this  question.  But  it  was  not  so  clear  when 
the  sole  way  to  Republican  victory  seemed  to  lie  through 
Democratic  division,  and  Douglas  was  the  leader  of  a 


DOUGLAS  AND  LINCOLN.  233 

revolt  which  in  its  effect  had  turned  the  scales  in  favor 
of  free  Kansas.  The  argument  of  policy  was  stated 
by  the  Bejniblican,  June  19,  1858,  in  reply  to  a  corre- 
spondent who  pointed  out  with  much  force  that  Douglas 
was  the  same  man  who  had  given  leadership,  support, 
or  connivance  to  every  aggression  of  the  slave  power 
up  to  the  preceding  winter.  Its  reply  was :  "  The  Re- 
publicans of  1856,  in  order  to  turn  out  the  present 
slavery  administration  of  1860,  must  have  help  from 
somewhere  —  from  men  who  voted  for  Buchanan  or  for 
Fillmore,  or  from  both,  and  who,  if  they  did  not  applaud 
the  Nebraska  bill  and  the  assault  on  Sumner,  at  least 
acquiesced  in  them  both  and  were  silent."  Former  oppo- 
nents, it  continued,  stand  ready  to  become  allies, —  such 
Americans  as  Crittenden,  Bell,  Marshall,  Fillmore,  and 
the  Brookses, —  such  Democrats  as  Douglas,  Broderick, 
Stuart,  Haskins,  and  Montgomery.  "  Shall  we  step  in 
and  ask  them  what  they  think  of  the  repeal  of  the 
Missouri  compromise,  the  brutality  of  Brooks,  and  the 
capacity  of  Fremont,  before  we  join  hands  in  a  beneficent 
and  patriotic  duty  of  to-day ! " 

The  Bepublican  had,  too,  a  reason  of  its  own  for  coun- 
tenancing Douglas.  Its  editor  hated  the  rule  of  party 
almost  as  heartily  as  he  hated  negro  slavery.  The  paper 
protested  against  party  tyranny  vigorously  in  behalf  of 
Seward  when,  in  the  preceding  winter,  some  attempt  was 
made  to  discipline  him  for  voting  against  his  associates 
in  favor  of  an  Administration  bill  for  the  increase  of  the 
army.  Now,  its  hearty  sympathies  went  to  the  brilliant 
rebel  who  had  defied  the  tyranny  of  the  President  and 
the  Southern  leaders,  and  was  like  to  pay  the  penalty  in 
political  ruin,  unless  the  Republicans  welcomed  him  to 
their  ranks.  Only  when  Douglas  had  dexterously  united 
the  Democratic  party  in  his  support  at  home,  against  the 
spiteful  but  feeble  opposition  of  the  President,  did  the 


234     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

Bepiiblican  yield  a  reluctant  approval  to  his  opponents. 
It  recognized  then  that,  "  through  his  own  timidity  and 
the  folly  of  the  Illinois  Republicans,"  he  had  become 
again  the  most  formidable  of  Democratic  chiefs,  and 
his  defeat  desirable. 

The  weak  spot  in  the  plea  for  accepting  Douglas  as  a 
Republican  leader  lay  in  his  moral  untrustworthiness. 
Two  years  later,  the  Repuhlican  judged  him  with  entire 
correctness  when  it  said,  April  14,  1860 : 

"  There  is  one  essential  deficiency  in  his  political  character. 
He  does  not  recognize  the  moral  element  in  politics  in  the 
slightest  degree ;  makes  no  account  of  it ;  never  appeals  to 
conscience,  and  in  effect  despises  and  scouts  its  authority.  Yet 
as  a  politician  he  is  successful,  and  no  man  carries  the  massed 
with  him  so  easily.  In  his  own  state  and  at  the  West  every- 
where his  success  on  the  stump  is  perfect.  Yet  his  arts  are 
those  of  the  demagogue  and  the  sophist,  and  the  fame  and 
iafluence  built  on  such  foundations  must  necessarily  be  perish- 
able. Yet,  with  a  courage  amounting  to  audacity,  a  wdl  that 
marches  scornfully  over  every  obstacle,  and  a  magnetic  power 
to  inspire  and  control  men,  his  ambition  may  reach  its  goal, 
in  spite  of  the  great  moral  deficiencies  which  make  him  an 
unsafe  leader,  and  which  wiU  give  him  a  much  lower  place  in 
history  than  he  wiQ  hold  during  the  period  of  his  vigor  and 
influence.  It  is  precisely  this  lack  of  the  moral  quahty  that 
stands  in  the  way  of  his  aspirations  more  than  anything  else. 
Men  do  not  trust  him.  Nobody  can  be  sure  what  he  will  do 
to-moiTOW.  If  placed  in  the  presidential  chair,  those  who  elect 
him  will  tremble  for  the  result.  They  can  never  be  sure  of  him 
for  any  given  period  of  time,  and  this  notwithstanding  the 
tenacity,  amounting  to  doggedness,  with  which  he  sticks  to 
his  own  purposes." 

The  Illinois  Republicans  in  1858  already  knew  their 
old  foe  far  too  well  to  accept  him  for  theii'  leader.  They 
were  willing,  as  Senator  Trumbull  said,  to  "  take  him  on 
probation " ;  but  they  by  no  means  proposed  to  make 


DOUGLAS   AND   LINCOLN.  235 

him  at  once  the  head  of  their  church.  So  he  rallied  to 
him  his  old  party,  and  was  proclaimed  its  senatorial 
candidate.  Against  him  the  Republicans  pitted  Abraham 
Lincoln.  They  knew  Lincoln  as  ''  Honest  Abe,"  a  shrewd 
politician,  a  thoroughly  trustworthy  man,  and  a  moder- 
ate but  resolute  opponent  of  slavery.  To  the  country  at 
large  he  appeared  as  a  backwoods  lawyer,  who  had  served 
one  term  in  Congress  a  dozen  years  before,  with  little 
distinction.  No  one  yet  recognized  in  him  the  typical 
and  foremost  man  of  American  democracy. 

Mr.  Lamon,  the  fullest  historian  of  Lincoln's  ante- 
presidential  life,  gives  a  graphic  portraiture  of  the  cir- 
cumstances under  which  he  grew  to  manhood.  His  father 
was  an  immigrant  from  Kentucky  to  Indiana,  an  igno- 
rant, thriftless,  coarse  man.  Left  with  two  motherless 
children,  he  returned  to  his  early  home,  and  brought 
back  to  his  cabin  a  second  wife,  in  every  way  his  supe- 
rior, who  found  that  she  had  married  poverty  and  degra- 
dation. She  improved  the  one  possibility  which  her  lot 
offered,  by  becoming  a  true  and  tender  mother  to  the 
ragged  and  neglected  boy  and  girl.  Her  love  and  care 
exercised  a  gracious  influence  over  their  lives.  The  boy 
grew  up,  working  now  on  a  farm,  now  on  a  flat-boat, 
now  as  clerk  in  a  country  store;  read  voraciously  the 
few  books  he  could  get  hold  of  ;  studied  law-books,  lying 
stretched  at  full  length  before  the  store  with  his  heels 
raised  against  a  tree ;  went  as  a  volunteer  in  the  Black 
Hawk  war ;  was  sent  to  the  legislature  ;  served  one  term 
in  CoDgress  as  a  Whig  in  18-47-8,  and  then  gave  way  to 
another  aspirant  of  his  party  ;  practiced  law,  and,  in  his 
own  words,  **  was  losing  interest  in  politics  when  the 
repeal  of  the  Missouri  compromise  roused  him  again." 
As  a  young  man,  in  the  rough  backwoods  country,  he 
was  known  as  the  most  powerful  wrestler  and  fighter  of 
the  region,  when  driven  into  a  fray ;  but  a  peace-lover 


236     THE  LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

prompt  and  skillful  to  allay  incipient  brawls  by  his  tact 
and  good  nature.  He  was  full  of  good-fellowship,  yet  a 
solitary  man.  His  humor  was  a  refuge  from  underlying 
sadness.  There  was  in  him  a  deep  constitutional  mel- 
ancholy. In  his  youth  the  death  of  the  woman  to  whom 
he  was  betrothed  depressed  him  so  that  for  a  few  weeks 
he  was  insane.  His  ambition  met  with  no  great  suc- 
cess. His  domestic  life  was  clouded.  His  nature  on  one 
side  impelled  him  to  activity  in  large  public  affairs.  He 
was  a  shrewd,  long-headed  politician,  with  sagacity  to 
read  men,  and  tact  and  patience  to  manage  them.  On 
the  other  side  that  nature  was  deeply  meditative.  He 
brooded  in  solitude  over  the  problem  of  human  life.  In 
his  youth  he  had  accepted  the  hard  materialistic  infi- 
delity of  the  West.  Its  loud-voiced  negations  did  not  long 
satisfy  him ;  he  was  weighed  upon  by  the  heavy  mys- 
teries of  human  existence,  and  found  no  wings  to  rise 
above  them.  Said  his  partner,  Herndon :  "  His  melan- 
choly dripped  from  him  as  he  walked."  But  if  a  friend 
met  and  heartily  saluted  him,  he  would  answer  with  a 
cordial  "  Howdy,  howdy,"  and  detain  him  to  hear  a  com- 
ical story,  the  fun  dancing  in  his  eyes  and  playing  over 
every  feature. 

The  popular  title  of  "  Honest  Abe  "  hit  a  central  trait 
in  the  man.  His  character  and  his  mind  were  veracious 
to  the  core.  This  is  the  quality  which  gives  to  his  written 
speeches  their  power  and  charm.  One  feels  that  the 
speaker  is  alwaj^s  going  as  near  as  he  can  to  the  heart  of 
the  matter.  There  are  no  mellifluous  nothings.  Every 
word  stands  for  something.  His  mind  laid  hold  with 
firm  grasp  on  every  fact  it  could  reach.  It  combined 
and  interpreted  its  facts  in  the  daylight  of  plain  com- 
mon sense.  It  confined  itseK  to  the  solid  earth ;  its 
movements  were  slow,  but  without  pause  or  retreat.  The 
man  was  true,  with  a  painful  fidelity  to  the  facts  of  each 


DOUGLAS  AND  LINCOLN.  237 

present  situatiou,  weigliing,  testing,  hesitating,  while 
prophets  and  theorists  rushed  with  fiery  energy  to  their 
conchisions.  But  his  path  of  action  once  chosen,  he 
moved  on  as  inflexibly  as  gravitation.  Personal  ambi- 
tion he  had  in  abundance ;  but  he  held  it  subject  to  a 
profound  sense  of  justice  and  a  sensitive  humanity. 

Lincoln's  attitude  toward  slavery  was  that  of  the 
humane  and  conscientious  men  throughout  the  North 
who  were  not  Abolitionists.  He  hated  it ;  he  opposed 
its  extension ;  but,  as  existing  in  the  Southern  states,  it 
had  to  him  the  sanction  of  an  established  political  order, 
which  could  not  be  defied  without  inviting  anarchy.  In 
1855  he  wrote  to  his  friend,  J.  F.  Speed,  of  Kentucky : 

"  I  acknowledge  your  rights  and  my  obligations  under  the 
Constitution  in  regard  to  your  slaves.  I  confess  I  hate  to  see 
the  poor  creatvires  hunted  down,  and  caught,  and  carried  back 
to  their  stripes  and  unrequited  toils ;  but  I  bite  my  hps  and 
keep  quiet.  In  1841,  you  and  I  had  together  a  tedious  low- 
water  trip  in  a  steamboat  from  Louisville  to  St.  Louis.  You 
may  remember,  as  well  as  I  do,  that  from  Louisville  to  the 
mouth  of  the  Ohio  there  were  on  board  ten  or  a  dozen  slaves 
shackled  together  with  irons.  That  sight  was  a  continued  tor- 
ment to  me  ;  and  I  see  something  hke  it  every  time  I  touch  the 
Ohio  or  any  other  slave  border.  It  is  not  fair  for  you  to 
assume  that  I  have  no  interest  in  a  thing  which  has,  and  con- 
tinuaUy  exercises,  the  power  of  making  me  miserable.  You 
ought  rather  to  appreciate  how  much  the  great  body  of  the 
Northern  people  do  crucify  their  feelings,  in  order  to  maintain 
their  loyalty  to  the  Constitution  and  the  Union.  I  do  oppose 
the  extension  of  slavery,  because  my  judgment  and  feelings  so 
prompt  me  ;  and  I  am  under  no  obligations  to  the  contrary." 

A  mind  which  is  deeply  tenacious  of  concrete  facts  and 
chary  of  theories  and  abstractions,  when  it  sometimes 
rises,  perhaps  suddenly,  to  a  broad  and.  commanding  view, 
speaks  with  a  deliberate  weight  of  inmost  conviction.    It 


238     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

is  this  feeling  of  solid  reality  which  gives  their  majesty 
to  Lincoln's  Gettysburg  address  and  second  inaugural. 
Those  utterances  stand  for  us  among  the  noblest  chap- 
ters of  that  national  history  which  Carlyle  says  makes 
for  every  people  its  own  Bible.  It  was  with  some  such 
illumination  that  Lincoln  spoke  in  the  address  with 
which  he  began  his  campaign  against  Douglas  in  1858. 

*'  A  house  divided  against  itself  cannot  stand.  I  believe  this 
government  cannot  endure  permanently  half  slave  and  half 
free.  I  do  not  expect  the  Union  to  be  dissolved, —  I  do  not 
expect  the  house  to  fall ;  but  I  do  expect  it  will  cease  to  be 
divided.  It  will  become  aU  one  thing  or  all  the  other.  Either 
the  opponents  of  slavery  will  arrest  the  further  spread  of  it, 
and  place  it  where  the  pubhc  mind  shall  rest  in  the  belief  that 
it  is  in  the  course  of  ultimate  extinction,  or  its  advocates  will 
push  it  forward  tiU  it  shall  become  ahke  lawful  in.  aU  the 
states  —  old  as  well  as  new,  North  as  well  as  South." 

This  declaration  was  followed  by  a  lucid  exposition 
of  that  march  of  aggression  by  which  successively  the 
barrier  of  the  Missouri  compromise  had  been  thrown 
down ;  theu  the  permission  to  a  territorial  population  to 
exclude  slavery  had  been  refused  by  Congress ;  next  a 
Supreme  Court  decision  given  that  slavery  had  an  in- 
alienable title  to  exist  in  all  the  territories ;  and  a  door 
carefully  left  open  in  this  same  decision  for  a  future 
ruling  that  the  master  might  take  his  slaves  into  the  free 
states.  In  the  whole  speech  there  was  no  passion  and  no 
exaggeration.  He  summoned  the  North  to  resistance  only 
through  the  ballot-box.  He  went  no  further  than  oppo- 
sition to  any  extension  of  slavery.  The  extinction  of 
slavery  where  it  already  existed,  he  anticipated  as  a 
probability  on  broad  philosophic  grounds,  but  did  not 
for  a  moment  regard  it  as  the  legitimate  object  of  politi- 
cal action  on  the  part  of  the  North. 


DOUGLAS   AND   LINCOLN.  239 

Lincoln,  as  Lamon  narrates,  read  this  speech  in  ad- 
vance to  a  council  of  his  friends,  and  they  all,  with  the 
single  exception  of  Herndon, —  an  old  Abolitionist, — pro- 
tested against  it,  as  far  in  advance  of  the  time,  of 
doubtful  truth,  and  full  of  danger  to  his  prospects.  Lin- 
coln made  sober  answer  that  he  was  con\dnced  its  opin- 
ions were  true,  and  needed  to  be  spoken ;  if  he  was  to  go 
down  because  of  saying  it,  then  he  chose  to  go  down. 
"  This  nation  cannot  live  on  injustice  ! "  The  speech  did 
injure  his  standing  with  the  people  of  Illinois,  and  tended 
to  his  defeat  in  the  immediate  contest.  It  was  arranged 
that  the  two  rivals  for  the  senatorship  should  address 
the  people  at  the  same  place  and  time,  in  a  series  of  joint 
debates.  These  debates  were  watched  with  great  interest 
not  only  in  Illinois  but  throughout  the  North.  The  sub- 
ject discussed  was  mainly  the  question  of  congressional 
exclusion  of  slavery  from  the  territories,  as  against 
"  popular  sovereignty."  Each  did  his  best  to  drive  his 
opponent  to  disadvantageous  positions.  Each  offered  a 
series  of  questions  to  which  the  other  was  bound  to  reply. 
It  was  a  tug  of  skilled  wrestlers.  Douglas's  appeal  was  to 
the  coarsely  selfish  man,  jealous  for  his  own  rights  and 
not  sensitive  to  the  rights  of  others.  Democracy  of  the 
vulgar  and  self-assertive  kind  has  never  found  a  better 
mouth-piece.  He  was  loud  in  proclaiming  his  own  indif- 
ference to  slavery ;  he  "  didn't  care  whether  slavery  was 
voted  up  or  voted  down."  His  plea  was,  in  substance, 
"  You  have  a  right  to  go  into  a  territory,  and  there  you 
and  your  neighbors  have  the  right  to  settle  your  own 
affairs  as  you  please,  and  neither  Congress  nor  anybody 
else  has  a  right  to  interfere."  He  made  great  capital  out 
of  the  prejudice,  strong  in  Illinois,  against  the  negro 
race ;  he  represented  Lincoln  as  a  negro-lover,  an  Aboli- 
tionist, a  foe  to  the  South.  Against  these  attacks,  and 
in  reply  to  Douglas's  questions,  Lincoln  took  ground — 


240     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

wliicli  was  quite  consistent  with  all  Ms  utterances  and 
sentiments  up  to  that  time  —  against  any  equality  of  the 
two  races.  He  said,  ''  I  am  not,  nor  ever  have  been,  in 
favor  of  making  voters  or  jurors  of  negroes,  nor  of  qual- 
ifying them  to  hold  office,  nor  to  intermarry  with  white 
people  ;  and  I  will  say  in  addition  to  this  that  there  is  a 
physical  difference  between  the  white  and  the  black  races 
which  I  believe  will  forever  forbid  the  two  races  living 
together  on  terms  of  social  and  political  equality.  And 
inasmuch  as  they  cannot  so  live,  while  they  do  live 
together  there  must  be  the  position  of  superior  and  infe- 
rior, and  I,  as  much  as  any  other  man,  am  in  favor  of 
having  the  superior  position  assigned  to  the  white  man. 
I  say  upon  this  occasion,  I  do  not  perceive  that,  because 
the  white  man  is  to  have  the  superior  position,  the  negro 
should  be  denied  everything." 

The  Republican  said  of  the  debates,  two  years  later: 
"  The  judgment  of  all  men  of  mind  upon  the  Illinois 
canvass  is  in  favor  of  Lincoln  as  against  Douglas.  Caleb 
Gushing  said  but  recently  that  these  debates  showed 
Lincoln  the  superior  of  Douglas  '  in  every  vital  element 
of  power ' ;  and  Mr,  Gushing  added  what  we  believe  is 
equally  true,  that  ^  the  world  does  not  yet  know  how 
much  of  a  man  Lincoln  really  is.' "  ^'  He  handled  Doug- 
las," said  the  Republican,  "  as  he  would  an  eel — by  main 
strength.  Sometimes  perhaps  he  hugged  him  so  strongly 
that  he  slipped  through  his  fingers."  But  the  eel  did 
not  get  away  on  the  occasion  when  it  most  behooved 
him  to  do  so.  The  weakest  spot  in  Douglas's  position 
was  the  contradiction  between  the  Dred  Scott  decision — 
to  which  he  had  expressed  his  adherence — which  carried 
slavery  by  its  own  right  into  every  territory,  and  the 
idea  of  '^  popular  sovereignty  "  by  which  each  territorial 
population  was  its  own  master  on  the  subject.  About 
this  inconsistency  Douglas  habitually  threw  a  cloud  of 


DOUGLAS   AND   LINCOLN.  241 

sophistication  ;  his  genius  lay  in  covering  np  the  real 
facts  as  much  as  Lincoln's  in  disclosing  them.  But 
among  the  questions  which  Lincoln  in  the  coui-se  of 
debate  was  entitled  to  propound,  he  slipped  into  the 
middle  of  a  series,  of  which  the  other  inquiries  were 
harmless  conundrums,  this  query :  "  Can  the  people  of  a 
United  States  territory,  in  any  lawful  way,  against  the 
will  of  any  citizen  of  the  United  States,  exclude  slavery 
from  its  limits '? "  It  was  a  most  legitimate  question ;  it 
simply  probed  home  the  position  of  Douglas  on  the  main 
topic  at  issue.  But  it  impaled  him  on  a  fatal  dilemma : 
if  he  said  Yes,  he  lost  his  Southern  support;  if  No, 
his  Northern.  Douglas  so  answered  as  to  wiu  in  the  field 
where  he  was  then  fighting.  "  It  matters  not,"  he  said, 
''  what  way  the  Supreme  Court  may  hereafter  decide  as 
to  the  abstract  question  whether  slavery  may  or  may  not 
go  into  a  territory  under  the  Constitution," — the  weight 
of  the  already  pronounced  decision,  as  most  people  con- 
strued it,  Douglas  always  belittled.  "It  matters  not,"  he 
said ;  "  the  people  have  the  lawful  means  to  introduce  or 
exclude  it,  as  they  please,  for  the  reason  that  slavery 
cannot  exist  a  day  or  an  hour  anywhere,  unless  it  is  sup- 
ported by  local  police  regulations.  Those  police  regula- 
tions can  only  be  established  by  the  local  legislature ; 
and  if  the  people  are  opposed  to  slavery,  they  wiU  elect 
representatives  to  that  body  who  will,  by  unfriendly 
legislation,  effectually  prevent  the  introduction  of  it  into 
their  midst."  The  reply  might  be  satisfactory  to  the 
audience  who  heard  it,  but,  as  Lincoln  had  foreseen  and 
predicted  to  his  friends,  it  put  Douglas  in  a  position 
where  the  South  would  never  accept  him.  That  phrase, 
"unfriendly  legislation,"  was  fatal  to  him  as  a  presi- 
dential candidate  in  the  party  controlled  by  the  South. 

At  the  opening  of  the  canvass,  Lincoln  was  aware  of 
the  dubious  regard  with  which  the  Republican  leaders 
Vol.  L— 16 


242     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

elsewhere  looked  at  his  opposition  to  Douglas.     In  his 
opening  speech  he  said  : 

**  They  remind  us  that  he  is  a  very  great  man,  and  that  the 
largest  of  us  are  very  small  ones.  Let  this  be  granted.  But 
'  a  hving  dog  is  better  than  a  dead  hon.'  Judge  Douglas,  if 
not  a  dead  hon  for  this  work,  is  at  least  a  caged  and  toothless 
one.  How  can  he  oppose  the  advances  of  slavery  ?  He  don't 
care  anything  about  it.  His  avowed  mission  is  impressing  the 
'  pubhc  heart '  to  care  nothing  about  it." 

Meantime  congressional  and  state  elections  were  ap- 
proaching throughout  the  country.  The  Dred  Scott 
decision,  the  Lecompton  scheme,  the  divisions  in  the 
Democracy,  the  weakness  of  Buchanan,  had  greatly 
strengthened  the  hands  of  the  Republicans.  In  most  of 
the  doubtful  states  they  were  on  more  friendly  terms  with 
the  anti-Lecompton  Democrats  than  in  Illinois,  though 
not  enough  so  to  satisfy  the  Beptiblican,  which  was 
eager  for  a  more  comprehensive  policy.  It  went  so  far 
as  to  actively  favor,  for  a  time,  the  adoption  of  a  bona 
fide  ^'  Popular  Sovereignty "  doctrine  in  place  of  the 
party's  original  dogma  of  congressional  exclusion.  It 
urged  that  Kansas  had  shown  how  certainly  the  Northern 
immigration  would  predominate  in  the  new  territories ; 
that  practical  results  were  more  important  than  a  theo- 
retical consistency,  and  that  it  was  equally  safe  and  politic 
to  meet  half-way  the  anti-Lecompton  Democrats.  But 
as  to  these,  most  of  the  Republicans  evidently  opined 
that  it  was  not  necessary  for  the  mountain  to  go  half-way 
to  meet  Mahomet.  The  popular  wind  was  blowing  too  fair 
and  too  strong  for  them  to  care  to  go  upon  the  other  tack. 
Moreover,  the  theory  that  Congress  should  leave  the  ter- 
ritorial populations  to  settle  the  slavery  questions  for 
themselves  never  found  favor  among  either  the  most 
strenuous  foes  or  friends  of  slavery.     Both  of  these  were 


DOUGLAS   AND   LINCOLN.  243 

eager  to  grasp  and  wield  the  full  power  of  the  central 
government  on  the  question  they  had  most  at  heart.  In 
the  Republican  ranks,  voices  were  becoming  louder  and 
clearer  as  to  the  magnitude  and  intensity  of  the  whole 
struggle.  Seward  in  New  York  made  a  declaration  which 
was  equivalent  to  Lincoln's  "  House  divided  against 
itself."     Said  he : 

"  The  United  States  must,  and  will,  sooner  or  later,  become 
either  entirely  a  slave-holding  nation  or  entirely  a  free-labor 
nation.  Either  the  cotton  and  rice  fields  of  South  Carolina 
and  the  sugar  plantations  of  Louisiana  will  ultimately  be  tilled 
by  free  labor,  and  Charleston  and  New  Orleans  become  marts 
for  legitimate  merchandise  alone,  or  else  the  rye-fields  and 
wheat-fields  of  Massachusetts  and  New  York  must  again  be 
surrendered  by  their  farmers  to  slave  culture  and  to  the  pro- 
duction of  slaves,  and  Boston  and  New  York  become  once  more 
markets  for  trade  in  the  bodies  and  souls  of  men." 

He  declared  that  one  of  these  alternatives  must  be  the 
issue  of  the  '^  irrepressible  conflict "  between  slavery  and 
freedom.  The  RejmbUcan  (November  13,  1858)  said  that 
these  utterances  had  been  widely  misinterpreted,  as  if 
they  conveyed  a  menace  of  direct  political  action  against 
slavery  in  the  slave  states ;  although  in  this  very  speech 
Mr.  Seward  disclaimed  any  purpose  or  expectation  of 
giving  universal  freedom  "otherwise  than  through  the 
action  of  the  several  states  cooperating  with  the  federal 
government,  and  all  acting  in  conformity  with  their  re- 
spective constitutions."  Nevertheless,  the  BepHlUcan 
held  his  bold  prediction  to  be  incautious,  improbable  of 
fulfillment,  and  likely  to  injure  Mr.  Seward  and  the  party. 

Massachusetts  had  in  1857  chosen  a  Republican  state 
government.  Banks,  fresh  from  his  brilliant  career  as 
Speaker  of  the  House,  had  been  nominated  with  enthu- 
siasm by  the  Republicans  and  one  wing  of  the  Ameri- 
cans, and  elected  over  Gardner,  whom  the  rest  of  the 


244     THE   LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

Americans  supported.  His  administration  was  able  and 
successful,  and  an  easy  victory  fell  to  him  and  the  party 
in  1858.  He  could  scarcely  be  claimed  by  the  Conserva- 
tive, certainly  not  by  the  Radical,  wing  of  the  party. 
The  Eepuhlican  was  his  cordial  supporter.  In  this  year 
the  intensifying  anti-slavery  sentiment  of  the  party  — 
though  it  still  in  its  resolutions  stood  steadily  on  con- 
stitutional ground  —  found  voice  through  the  president 
of  the  state  convention,  John  A.  Andrew.  '^  I  believe," 
said  he,  ''  in  the  Republican  party,  because  I  believe  that 
slavery,  the  servitude  of  humanity,  has  no  business  to 
exist  anywhere  ;  because  it  has  no  business  to  exist  and 
no  right  to  be  supported  where  the  sun  shines  or  the 
grass  grows  or  water  runs." 

The  Repuhlican  foretold  ill  to  the  party  in  the  doubt- 
ful states  for  want  of  a  broader  policy.  On  the  12th  of 
October  —  election  day  in  Pennsylvania,  Ohio,  and  In- 
diana—  it  said:  ^^  The  undertow  of  politics  is  running 
against  the  Republicans."  But  the  next  day's  news  was 
of  victory  along  the  whole  line.  The  voice  of  the  great 
central  states  was  decisive.  "  Mr.  Buchanan,"  said  the 
Bepuhlican,  October  16,  '^  has  been  in  office  a  little  less 
than  two  years,  and  his  Administration  and  himself  are 
practically  overthrown.  The  popular  voice  is  declared 
against  him  and  his  policy,  and  he  falls  no  more  to  rise. 
The  South,  which  has  flattered  and  fooled  him,  will  for- 
sake him  in  the  end,  for  his  power  is  gone.  Sic  semper 
tyrannis  !  .  .  .  It  is  now  plainly  seen  that  it  is  in  the 
power  of  those  who  are  opposed  to  slavery,  and  in  favor 
of  free  labor,  to  elect  the  next  President  of  the  United 
States." 

The  November  elections  confirmed  the  October  verdict. 
The  Republicans  had  obtained  a  majority  in  the  House 
of  Representatives.  The  Senate  was  still  Democratic. 
But  Kansas  was  free  beyond  reversal,  and  the  Repub- 


DOUGLAS  AND   LINCOLN.  245 

liean  party  was  on  the  high  road  to  possession  of  the 
government.  In  Illinois,  the  Republicans  had  a  small 
majority  of  the  entire  vote,  but  by  the  apportionment  of 
districts  it  fell  out  that  a  Democratic  legislature  was 
chosen,  and  Douglas  was  reelected.  He  returned  to 
Washington,  to  be  deposed  from  the  chairmanship  of 
the  Committee  on  Territories  by  the  Southern  and  Ad- 
ministration influence,  but  still  the  foremost  man  of  his 
party  in  the  estimation  of  the  people.  Lincoln  returned 
to  private  life  and  to  comparative  obscurity. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 
John  Brown. 

IN  reality,  as  we  now  see,  after  the  elections  of  1858 
tlie  slave  power  began  to  feel  itself  on  the  defensive. 
Yet  it  still  grasped  at  fresh  conquests.  A  demand  was 
urged  by  some  of  the  leaders  that  Congress  should  enact  a 
code  for  the  regulation  and  protection  of  slavery  through- 
out the  territories ;  it  being  clear  that  whatever  abstract 
right  it  possessed  there  under  the  Dred  Scott  decision 
would  avail  little  without  active  Federal  protection.  The 
Administration  conducted  some  ineffectual  negotiations 
with  Mexico  for  the  purchase  of  more  territory.  There 
was  a  little  talk  about  bujdng  Cuba.  An  American  ad- 
venturer, William  Walker,  made  repeated  attempts  at 
conquests  in  Nicaragua,  without  effective  hindrance  from 
the  Administration,  and  with  considerable  sympathy  from 
the  South.  There  was  a  greatly  increased  activity  in  the 
importation  of  African  slaves  to  Cuba,  and  numerous 
vessels  were  sent  out  from  New  York  for  the  traffic. 
Our  government  had  been  notably  remiss  in  fulfilling  its 
treaty  stipulations  with  England  for  cooperation  in  the 
suppression  of  the  slave  trade;  but  when  some  of  the 
English  cruisers  in  the  West  Indies  went  a  step  be- 
yond discretion,  in  examining  suspected  vessels  under 
the  American  flag,  our  government  bristled  with  "v^Tath, 
war  vessels  were  sent,  and  congressmen  of  both  parties 

246 


JOHN   BROWN.  247 

threatened  loudly.  England  conceded  the  rights  of  the 
flag ;  and  the  exemption  from  search,  for  which  we  had 
forty  years  before  fought  a  war,  that  we  might  protect 
our  sailors  from  impressment,  without  gaining  a  word 
of  explicit  concession,  was  now  formally  recognized  in 
order  to  guard  our  sensitive  honor  against  the  inspection 
of  ships  which  from  their  appearance  might  he  slavers. 
But  the  Administration  was  roused  to  bestir  itself  against 
the  trade,  and  a  number  of  captures  were  made  by  our 
cruisers.  The  crew  of  one  slaver,  the  Eclio,  captured 
with  her  freight  of  misery  on  board,  were,  against  the 
clearest  evidence,  acquitted  by  a  Charleston  jury.  One 
or  two  cargoes  of  Africans  were  landed  at  the  South, 
and  there  was  some  agitation  by  Southern  newspapers 
and  politicians  in  favor  of  legalizing  the  traffic. 

But  none  of  these  projects,  for  a  congressional  slave 
code,  for  the  acquisition  of  slave  territory,  or  for  the 
re-opening  of  the  African  slave  trade,  had  any  prospect 
of  success.  The  power  of  successful  aggression  had 
passed  away  from  the  slave-holding  interest.  The  lead- 
ers of  that  interest  saw  in  the  steady  march  of  the  Repub- 
lican party  to  power  the  approaching  end  of  their  own 
long  control  of  the  government.  Meantime  fresh  events 
were  teaching  to  both  sections  the  irreconcilable  hostility 
of  their  sentiments. 

On  the  16th  of  October,  1859,  a  company  of  nineteen 
men,  led  by  John  Brown,  entered  the  little  town  of 
Harper's  Ferry  in  Virginia,  seized  the  United  States 
Armory,  killed,  wounded,  or  captured  several  of  those 
who  resisted  them,  and  maintained  their  position  for 
thirty  hours,  when  they  were  overcome  by  a  company 
of  United  States  marines.  Eight  of  them,  including  two 
sons  of  Brown,  were  killed  in  the  fighting ;  five  escaped  ; 
and  six,  with  Brown  among  them,  were  captured.  The 
first  news  of  the  event — in  a  time  of  absolute  ci\dl  peace 


248     THE   LIFE   A^^D   TIMES   OF    SAMUEL   BOWT,ES. 

and  comiDarative  political  qiiiet  —  amazed  the  whole 
country.  Then,  as  its  significance,  as  an  attempt  to  free 
slaves  by  force  and  on  the  widest  scale,  was  perceived, 
the  South  was  filled  with  alarm  and  anger.  The  chronic 
latent  dread  of  every  Southern  household  was  that  of 
a  negro  insurrection.  Brown  was  at  once  believed  to 
be  the  product  and  representative,  if  not  the  direct 
agent,  of  the  Republican  party.  Behind  his  single  form 
the  imagination  of  the  South  saw  looming  the  whole 
power  of  the  North.  It  read  in  the  Harper's  Ferry  affair 
the  menace  of  invasion,  united  with  the  horrors  of  ser- 
vile insurrection.  The  Southern  people  did  not  credit 
the  loyalty  of  the  Republicans  to  the  Constitution.  That 
strong  anti-slavery  sentiment  should  co-exist  with  scru- 
pulous respect  for  the  legal  rights  of  slavery  was  beyond 
their  belief,  and  perhaps  beyond  their  comprehension. 
Their  own  friends  at  the  North,  of  the  Democratic  and 
"  Union  "  parties,  habitually  encouraged  this  distrust  by 
their  charges  against  the  Republicans.  These  political 
allies  of  the  South  now  made  haste  to  fix  the  respon- 
sibility for  John  Brown  on  the  Republican  party.  What 
they  said  insincerely  for  political  effect,  the  South  be- 
lieved with  passion  and  with  fear. 

The  majority  of  Northern  people  could  ill  comprehend 
the  alarm  of  the  South.  They  did  not  appreciate  how 
slavery  was  interlinked  with  every  usage  and  sentiment 
of  Southern  life ;  how  much  of  kindliness  and  mutual 
attachment  softened  its  rigors  and  quieted  the  mas- 
ter's conscience ;  nor,  on  the  other  hand,  how  the 
dangers  attendant  on  it,  both  real  and  imaginary,  en- 
vironed every  plantation  and  every  fireside.  The  alarm 
which  Brown's  raid  inspired  was  to  most  Northerners 
inscrutable  and  almost  despicable.  The  Republicans, 
too,  were  so  far  from  any  responsibility  for  Brown, 
or  any  disposition  to  favor  projects  like  his,  that  they 


JOHN  BKOWN.  249 

scarcely  felt  solicitude  even  to  defend  themselves  against 
the  imputation.  Their  attention,  and  that  of  the  whole 
country,  was  soon  closely  fastened  on  John  Brown 
himself. 

Brown  was  a  man  of  conscience,  courage,  and  sim- 
plicity. Living  amid  a  complex  civilization,  he  was 
governed  by  ideas  few  and  simple  as  those  of  an  ancient 
Hebrew.  He  was  a  devout  Presbyterian,  and  his  library 
was  the  Bible.  He  had  gone  with  his  sons  to  Kansas, 
where  he  became  a  leader  in  the  border  warfare.  Most 
of  the  free-state  settlers  had  the  aversion  to  violence 
which  characterized  the  people  of  the  Northern  states, 
they  stood  on  the  defensive,  and  fought  only  when 
obliged  to.  Brown  was  of  a  different  make ;  peaceful 
and  inoffensive  when  not  assailed,  yet  in  a  worthy  cause 
of  quarrel  he  was  as  ready  to  take  up  arms  as  the  ordinary 
citizen  is  to  take  his  case  to  the  courts.  He  was  prompt 
not  only  to  repel  the  invaders  but  to  retaliate  on  them. 
He  accepted  the  situation  as  one  of  open  warfare.  Among 
other  reprisals  he  crossed  the  Missouri  line,  and  set  free 
a  few  slaves ;  and  this  seems  to  have  suggested  to  him 
the  demonstration  at  Harper's  Ferry.  He  fell  into 
disfavor  with  his  party ;  his  way  of  settling  the  issue 
was  by  arms,  theirs  was  by  first  exhausting  all  civil 
remedies.  Lea\'ing  Kansas,  bereft  of  a  son  in  the 
conflict,  he  meditated  an  attack  on  the  whole  institution 
of  slavery.  The  moral  question  was  entirely  simple  to  a 
mind  like  his  :  Slavery  was  wrong, — then  make  war  on 
it.  His  j)lan  was  to  seize  the  arms  at  Harper's  Ferry  and 
establish  in  the  mountains  of  western  Virginia  a  forti- 
fied camp  of  refuge,  to  which  the  slaves  should  be  invited 
to  flee.  His  ultimate  expectation  seems  to  have  been  to 
so  unsettle  and  disturb  slave  property  that  the  institu- 
tion would  not  be  worth  maintaining  and  would  collapse. 
It  was  a  scheme  that  miscalculated  almost  every  element 


250     THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

in  the  situation, —  the  temper  of  the  slaves,  the  strength 
of  the  government,  the  disposition  of  the  Southern  and 
Northern  peoples.  The  attempt  broke  down  at  the  very- 
outset  :  if  it  had  gained  a  brief  success,  it  would  have 
been  put  down  by  the  whole  power  of  the  nation.  The 
Northern  people,  two  years  later,  showed  themselves  ready 
to  fight  in  defense  of  the  Union,  but  scarcely  a  handful 
of  them  would  have  opposed  the  Federal  government  in 
putting  down  a  slave  insurrection,  had  Brown's  attempt 
gained  headway.  That  attempt  in  its  failure  contributed 
to  great  results ;  but  there  is  no  reason  to  suppose  Brown 
foresaw  those  results.  There  was  no  large  forethought 
in  his  plan; — it  was  inspired  by  a  generous  heart,  a 
brave  will,  and  an  erratic  mind.  He  had  in  his  confidence 
only  a  few  Massachusetts  men,  who  were  impatient  of 
debate  and  delay  and  longed  to  see  a  blow  struck  —  Dr. 
Samuel  G.  Howe,  George  L.  Stearns,  T.  W.  Higginson, 
and  F.  B.  Sanborn.  They  were  not  Republicans,  nor  in 
any  sense  representative  either  of  the  Republican  party, 
the  Abolitionists,  or  the  Northern  people.  Several  years 
later,  Mr.  Sanborn  was  a  writer  for  the  Repuhlican;  at 
this  time  he  had  no  connection  with  it. 

It  was  Brown's  failure  which  immortalized  him.  As  a 
helpless  prisoner  the  grand  traits  in  his  character  shone 
clearly.  In  counsel  short-sighted,  in  action  bafiled,  he 
suffered  with  heroism  and  faith.  During  his  imprison- 
ment the  simple  courage  which  marked  every  deed  and 
word  impressed  the  imagination  and  won  the  heart  of 
all  mankind,  except  that  section  to  which  his  act  was 
a  menace.  He  was  a  fanatic,  as  all  men  recognized ; 
but  to  the  South  the  inspiration  of  his  fanaticism 
appeared  to  be  hostility  to  their  rights  of  property  and 
their  social  order,  while  the  North  recognized  that,  in 
however  crude  a  way,  he  was  aiming  at  obedience  to  the 
Golden  Rule.     The  North,  disowning  his  act,  yet  hon- 


JOHN   BKOWN.  251 

ored  him  as  a  hero  and  mourned  his  death  as  that  of  a 
martyr.  The  South  saw  the  sympathy,  and  disbelieved 
the  disavowal.  The  hearts  of  the  two  sections  were  so 
far  apart  that  the  unclasping  of  hands  was  sure  to  follow. 
The  impression  which  John  Brown  made  at  this  time 
upon  the  Northern  people  at  large  is  fairly  illustrated  by 
the  comments  of  the  Bepuhlican  —  wholly  dissociated  as 
that  paper  was  from  the  extreme  anti-slavery  men.  On 
the  same  day  when  it  reported  the  conversation  of  the 
wounded  old  hero  with  the  political  leaders  who  gathered 
about  him  —  in  which  his  nature  towered  above  self- 
seeking  and  worldly  men  like  ''the  conscience  of  a  saint 
among  his  earthly  members" — it  said  of  him,  after 
referring  to  personal  knowledge  of  him  through  his 
residence  at  one  time  in  Springfield : 

*'  He  is  so  constituted  that  when  he  gets  possessed  of  an  idea 
he  carries  it  out  with  unflinching  fidehty  to  all  its  logical  con- 
sequences, as  they  seem  to  him,  hesitating  at  no  absurdity  and 
deterred  by  no  unpleasant  consequences  to  himself  personally. 
He  is  a  Presbyterian  in  his  faith,  and  feels  that  it  is  for  this 
very  purpose  that  God  has  reared  him  up.  This  is  evident  in 
the  answers  given  to  his  catechism,  as  he  lay  chained  and 
bloody,  with  fierce  eyes  against  him  and  hearts  thirsting  for 
his  blood.  His  perfect  coolness  and  self-possession,  his  evident 
truthfulness  and  transparent  sincerity,  and  the  utter  absence 
of  fear  in  his  manner,  commanded  the  respect  of  aU  about  him. 
The  universal  feeling  is  that  John  Brown  is  a  hero, —  a  mis- 
guided and  insane  man,  but  nevertheless  inspired  with  a  genu- 
ine heroism.  He  has  a  large  infusion  of  the  stern  old  Puritan 
element  in  him." 

The  paper  protested,  October  24,  against  the  haste  and 
unfairness  of  his  trial. 

"  The  whole  manner  in  which  the  trial  is  conducted  shows 
that  the  Virginians  have  not  recovered  from  their  original  fright. 
They  scent  a  rescue  in  the  air,  surround  their  poor  wounded 


252     THE   LIFE   AKD   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

and  worn  prisoners  with  bayonets,  and  promise  to  bring  them 
to  the  gallows  within  thirty  days.  Let  them  go  ahead  in  their 
crazy  cowardice,  and  see  if  their  '  ain  roof-trees '  are  any  firmer 
for  it." 

Of  his  speech,  on  receiving  his  sentence,  it  said,  Novem- 
ber 4: 

"  In  calm  dignity,  in  the  conscious  rectitude  of  good  inten- 
tions, in  an  honest  and  hearty  faith  in  Christianity,  it  has  in  it 
heroic  elements  that  elevate  it  toward  the  sublime.  ...  If 
he  had  been  a  weak  man  or  a  wicked  man,  a  felon  in  the  com- 
mon acceptation  of  that  word,  when  the  sentence  was  pro- 
nounced upon  him  there  would  have  been  a  general  and 
tumultuous  demonstration  of  satisfaction  in  the  Charlestown 
court-room.  Instead  of  that,  the  impressive  silence  was  broken 
only  by  the  clapping  of  a  single  pair  of  hands,  and  the  people 
were  shocked  and  mortified  that  even  one  man  should  have 
been  found  in  Virginia  who  appreciated  so  poorly  the  character 
of  the  prisoner  and  the  nature  of  his  condemnation.  This  scene 
shows  the  wonderful  impression  made  by  Brown  upon  those 
about  him.  It  is  this  great  sincerity  and  heroic  self-sacrifice 
to  what  he  believed  to  be  right  that  gave  him  such  influence 
over  the  men  who  enhsted  in  his  scheme,  and  that  has  so  im- 
pressed the  Virginians  with  respect,  from  Governor  Wise  down, 
and  that  will  make  it  a  difficult  thing  to  hang  him." 

And  again,  November  12  : 

"  We  can  conceive  of  no  event  that  could  so  deepen  the 
moral  hostihty  of  the  people  of  the  free  states  to  slavery  as 
this  execution.  This  is  not  because  the  acts  of  Brown  are  gen- 
erally approved,  for  they  are  not.  It  is  because  the  nature  and 
spirit  of  the  man  are  seen  to  be  great  and  noble,  and  every- 
body feels  that  he  acted  from  feelings  that  do  honor  to  human 
nature,  and  that  are  to  be  condemned  only  because  they  were 
not  directed  by  wisdom  and  soundness  of  mind.  John  Brown 
is  neither  a  traitor  nor  a  murderer  in  intention.  His  death  will 
be  a  result  of  liis  own  folly,  to  be  sure,  but  that  wiU  not  pre- 


JOHN  BEO^V^NT.  253 

vent  his  being  considered  a  martyr  to  his  hatred  of  oppression, 
and  all  who  sjTnpathize  with  him  in.  that  sentiment  will  find 
their  hatred  grow  stronger  and  deeper  as  they  contemplate  his 
death.  Nobody  can  respect  an  institution  to  the  safety  of  which 
the  death  of  the  too  ardent  lover  of  Uberty  is  essential.  If 
Virginia  were  wise  she  would  see  this  and  be  magnanimous ; 
but  she  is  neither  wise  nor  magnanimous  in  anji;hing  that 
concerns  her  property  in  human  brains  and  bones,  and  so  we 
suppose  the  appointed  hanging  will  occur." 

Defiant  responses  came  from  the  Southern  press.  Said 
the  Richmond  Whig,  November  16  : 

"Virginia  and  the  South  are  ready  to  face  all  the  conse- 
quences of  the  execution  of  old  Brown  and  his  associates. 
Though  it  convert  the  whole  Northern  people  without  excep- 
tion into  furious,  armed,  abohtion  invaders,  yet  old  Brown  will 
be  hung !  That  is  the  stern  and  irreversible  decree,  not  only 
of  the  authorities  of  Virginia,  but  of  the  people  of  Virginia 
without  a  dissenting  voice.  And  therefoi'e  Virginia  and  the 
people  of  Virginia  will  treat  with  the  contempt  they  deserve  all 
the  craven  appeals  of  Northern  men  in  behalf  of  old  Brown's 
pardon.  The  miserable  old  traitor  and  murderer  belongs  to  the 
gallows,  and  the  gallows  will  have  its  own,  in  spite  of  all  the 
threatenings  and  maledictions  of  the  North  and  the  world 
combined." 

Upon  the  morning  of  his  execution,  December  2,  the 
RepnhJican  said :  "  The  calmest  man  in  aU  Virginia 
to-day  will  be  he  who  knows  that  he  will  be  in  another 
world  before  the  sun  has  reached  its  meridian."  And  so 
it  was.  The  old  hero  walked  serenely  out  of  his  prison ; 
said,  when  asked  if  he  suffered  from  fear,  that  he  had 
always  had  a  constitutional  insensibility  to  physical 
dread,  and  had  suffered  far  more  from  bashfulness  than 
he  ever  did  from  fear ;  and,  with  demeanor  as  simple  and 
unconscious  as  a  man  going  to  his  night's  rest,  ascended 


254  THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES  OF  SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

the  gallows  and  met  his  death.     His  fellow-prisoners 
were  executed  a  few  days  later. 

On  the  day  on  which  John  Brown  was  hanged,  the 
church  bells  were  tolled  in  Springfield,  as  in  many 
another  Northern  town.  Said  the  Republican,  next 
morning : 

"John  Brown  still  lives.  The  great  state  of  Virginia  has 
hung  his  venerable  body  upon  the  ignominious  gallows,  and 
released  John  Brown  himself  to  join  the  '  noble  army  of  mar- 
tyrs.' There  need  be  no  tears  for  him.  Few  men  die  so  happUy, 
so  satisfied  with  time,  place,  and  circumstance,  as  did  he.  .  . 
A  Christian  man  hung  by  Christians  for  acting  upon  his  con- 
victions of  duty, —  a  brave  man  hung  for  a  chivahous  and 
self-sacrificing  deed  of  humanity  —  a  philanthropist  hung  for 
seeking  the  hberty  of  oppressed  men.  No  outcry  about  violated 
law  can  cover  up  the  essential  enormity  of  a  deed  hke  this." 

"When  the  Northern  voice  thus  applauded  John  Brown, 
the  South  beheved  that  the  Northern  heart  fully  approved 
the  act.  It  discredited  all  disclaimers  of  such  approval 
as  insincere  or  haK-hearted.  If  we  can  imagine  a  per- 
manent alienation  and  hostility  between  the  poorer  and 
the  richer  classes  of  New  England;  the  sympathy  of  the 
Western  people  given  to  the  New  England  operatives, 
and  their  employers  denounced  as  criminals,  and  a  peace- 
ful town  like  Springfield  invaded  by  a  band  of  armed 
men  from  the  West,  its  citizens  shot  down,  and  its  opera- 
tives called  on  to  rise  in  arms;  —  if  we  can  imagine  the 
leader  of  the  invaders  treated  by  the  Western  people  as  a 
hero,  and  his  execution  as  a  judicial  murder,  though  with 
disclaimers  of  any  intention  to  follow  his  example, — we 
may  then  appreciate  how  the  South  was  affected  by  the 
act  of  John  Brown  and  by  the  spirit  in  which  the  North 
regarded  it. 

And  in  truth,  John  Brown's  death  went  far  to  reveal 
to  the  North  itself  how  irreconcilable  was  its  hostility 


JOHN  BEOWN.  255 

to  slavery.    Its  loftiest  and  serenest  thinker,  Emerson, 
said: 

"  Our  blind  statesmen  go  up  and  down,  with  committees  of 
vigilance  and  safety,  hunting  for  the  origin  of  this  new  heresy. 
They  will  need  a  veiy  vigilant  committee  indeed  to  find  its 
birth-place,  and  a  very  strong  force  to  root  it  out.  For  the 
arch- Abolitionist,  older  than  Brown,  and  older  than  the  Shen- 
andoah Mountains,  is  Love,  whose  other  name  is  Justice,  which 
was  before  Alfred,  before  Lycurgus,  before  slavery,  and  wiU 
be  after  it." 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

The  Election  of  Lestcoln. 

THE  session  of  the  new  Congress  which  followed  close 
on  the  John  Brown  raid  was  full  of  wordy  storms. 
The  Southern  members  interpreted  Republicanism  in 
the  light  of  that  event.  Their  leading  men  declared 
that  sooner  than  submit  to  the  rule  of  the  Republican 
party,  their  section  would  leave  the  Union.  No  great 
questions  of  practical  legislation  were  under  debate.  In 
the  House  the  chief  text  of  discussion  was  the  election 
of  a  Speaker,  and  a  resolution  condemning  the  approvers 
and  indorsers  of  a  noted  book.  Helper's  "Impending 
Crisis,"  a  vigorous  exposition  of  the  folly  of  the  slave 
system,  which  had  been  used  as  an  anti-slavery  campaign 
document  in  the  border  states.  The  resolution  was 
especially  aimed  at  John  Sherman,  the  Republican  can- 
didate for  the  speakership,  who  had  given  to  the  book  a 
qualified  approval.  In  the  Senate,  the  main  discussion 
was  upon  resolutions  introduced  by  Jefferson  Davis,  and 
embodying  the  Southern  ultimatum  ; — the  rebuke  of  all 
anti-slavery  agitators,  the  enforcement  of  the  fugitive 
slave  law  and  repeal  of  the  personal  liberty  laws,  and 
the  recognition  of  property  in  slaves  as  an  indefeasible 
right  of  territorial  settlers,  entitled  to  congr  ssional  pro- 
tection. The  Senate  finally  adopted  these  resolutions, 
nearly  by  a  party  vote.    Only  six  Republicans  opposed 

256 


THE   ELECTION   OF   LINCOLN.  257 

the  resolution  as  to  fugitive  slaves.  Douglas  stood  upon 
his  Popular  Sovereignty  ground,  but  unsupported  except 
by  Senator  Pugh  of  Ohio.  He  professed  entire  defer- 
ence to  the  Supreme  Court,  but  could  find  nothing  con- 
clusive in  the  Dred  Scott  decision,  and  declared  that 
whenever  a  territorial  legislature  should  prohibit  slavery, 
and  the  prohibition  be  brought  before  the  Court,  the 
decision  then  pronounced  as  to  its  constitutionality  should 
be  final.  He  also  introduced  a  bill  to  prevent  invasions 
of  one  state  from  another;  and  on  the  whole  steered 
the  bark  of  his  personal  fortunes  with  wonderful  skill 
amid  the  storms  born  of  genuine  convictions  and  passion- 
ate sentiments.  In  the  House,  meantime,  the  Repubhcans 
had  left  the  talking  mostly  to  their  opponents,  and  had 
shown  the  discipline  and  tactics  of  a  powerful  young 
party,  educated  in  opposition  and  confident  in  the  near 
prospect  of  full  victory.  They  at  last  exchanged  Sher- 
man for  a  candidate  regarded  as  more  conservative, 
William  Pennington  of  New  Jersey,  and  at  once  gained 
the  necessary  votes  to  elect  him  Speaker.  The  salient 
feature  of  the  session  in  both  houses  was  the  emphatic 
declaration  of  Southern  leaders  that  their  constituents 
would  never  submit  to  the  government  of  the  country  by 
the  Republican  party.  They  gave  the  loudest  warning  of 
impending  secession  and  disunion,  should  Seward,  or 
any  man  of  like  principles,  be  elected  president.  Most  of 
the  Republicans  regarded  this  talk  as  mere  bluster. 
Almost  the  only  men  at  the  North  who  treated  it  seriously 
were  those  who  were  in  close  political  afiiliation  with  the 
South.  The  New  York  Herald  was  fanning  the  flame  of 
excitement.  A  Washington  correspondent  of  the  Bepub- 
lican — Mr.  Bowles  apparently  —  wrote,  December  9  : 

''It  is  amusing'  to  see  the  greed  with  which  the  Herald  is 
snatched  up  and  devoured  on  its  earUest  anival  here  in  the 
evening;   and,  what  is  worse,  to  see  the  simphcity  of  these 
Vol.  I.— 17 


258     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

Southern  fellows  who  seem  to  pin  their  whole  faith  upon  it. 
Where  Northern  men  look  at  it  only  for  amusement,  as  they 
would  look  at  Punch  or  Frank  Leslie,  Southern  men  swallow  it 
gravely  with  a  sigh  and  a  knowing  shake  of  the  head." 

The  Eepublican  declares,  December  13,  that  the  "  Union 
meetings "  held  in  the  great  Northern  cities  are  worse 
than  useless,  because  they  are  managed  by  an  insignifi- 
cant clique  of  men,  whose  aim — with  a  few  patriotic 
exceptions  such  as  Everett — is  to  save  trade  and  make 
Democratic  votes ;  and  they  mislead  the  South  by  repre- 
senting that  their  little  coteries  have  a  monopoly  of  love 
of  the  Union  in  their  section.  At  the  North,  said  the 
paper,  December  14,  there  are  but  two  disunion  papers, 
the  Liberator  in  Boston  and  the  Standard  in  New 
York, —  and  they  advise  a  dissolution  by  the  harmless 
means  of  staying  away  from  the  ballot-box.  No  poli- 
tician, no  Democratic  or  Republican  paper,  no  caucus 
or  convention,  in  the  North  raises  a  voice  for  disunion, 
while  at  the  South  disunion  is  rampant  everywhere, 
and  unrebuked. 

The  South  was  in  deadly  earnest,  and  gave  ample 
proof  of  it.  The  proscription  of  anti-slavery  men  went 
on  with  such  vigor  as  never  before.  From  Berea,  in 
Kentucky,  a  whole  company  of  anti-slavery  men  were 
forcibly  driven  away.  Cases  of  expulsion  and  violence 
all  over  the  South  were  constantly  reported  during  the 
winter.  The  exclusion  of  anti-slavery  documents  from 
the  mails  was  enforced  with  new  zeal,  and  with  the 
assent  of  the  Post  Office  Department  at  Washington. 
In  many  of  the  states,  postmasters  refused  to  deliver  to 
subscribers  papers  like  the  Tribune  and  the  Republican. 
John  Brown  had  sent  home  to  the  '^  business  and  bosoms  " 
of  millions,  as  a  keen  personal  apprehension,  ideas  which 
had  before  been  hardly  more  than  the  politicians'  stock 
in  trade. 


THE   ELECTION   OF   LINCOLN.  259 

The  South  wrongly  believed  that  the  North  meant 
aggression,  and  stood  ready  to  grasp  at  secession  as  a 
remedy.  The  North  wrongly  believed  that  the  Southern 
excitement  was  a  transient  fever  fit,  fostered  as  a  political 
maneuver.  The  few  Cassandras  of  the  time  were  dis- 
credited ;  their  sentiments  were  so  alien  to  the  Northern 
heart,  that  their  predictions  fell  idly  on  Northern  ears. 
In  Faneuil  Hall,  in  December,  Caleb  Gushing  declared  of 
the  Republican  party : 

"A  band  of  dmnken  miitiiieers  have  seized  hold  of  the 
opinion  of  this  commonwealth  —  the  avowed  and  proclaimed 
enemies  of  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States.  .  .  .  And 
so  the  good  ship  of  state  drifts, —  drifts,  with  the  storm  still 
howhng  around  her, —  drifts  into  the  gulf  of  perdition,  with  the 
black  flag  of  the  pirate  hoisted  at  the  mizzen, —  aye,  and  the 
piratical  death's  head  at  the  fore, —  black,  black,  black,  from 
deck  to  keelson, —  I  say  the  good  ship  of  state  drags  on  to 
perdition." 

At  such  talk,  as  at  the  threats  of  disunion  by  the  Orrs 
and  Wises  and  Davises  and  Toombses  of  the  South, 
most  Northern  people  only  laughed.  The  presidential 
campaign,  the  decisive  game  in  the  long  controversy, 
went  on  at  the  North  like  the  campaigns  before  it;  — 
with  the  maneuvers  and  intrigues  of  aspirants  and  their 
friends  ;  the  wonted  play  of  ambition  and  oflSce-seeldng ; 
while  the  people  continued  their  farming  and  trading, 
discussed  good-naturedly  the  parties  and  their  candidates, 
and  cast  their  votes  with  their  wonted  confidence  in  the 
finality  of  a  popular  decision. 

The  Democratic  Convention  met  at  Charleston  in  the 
last  days  of  April.  Douglas,  ostracized  by  the  Adminis- 
tration, and  almost  alone  in  the  Senate,  was  very  strong 
with  the  people.  He  had  for  them  the  attraction  which 
a  virile,  audacious  man  —  a  dominant  personality,  a  nat- 


260     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

ural  leader  —  always  exercises  upon  the  crowd,  whatever 
may  be  the  ideas  which  he  represents.  He  had  behind 
him  that  great  element  of  the  Northern  democracy,  which, 
like  the  Republicans,  was  provoked  to  resistance  of  the 
South's  dictatorship,  but,  unlike  the  Republicans,  cared 
very  little  about  slaverj^  At  the  same  time  he  had 
trimmed  his  sails  so  shrewdly  to  conciliate  the  South, 
that  it  was  by  no  means  without  hope  of  using  him 
eventually  as  a  subservient  ally.  But  it  insisted  that 
the  convention  must  first  of  all  pronounce  the  pro-slav- 
ery shibboleth.  There  was  a  hot  fight  upon  two  sets 
of  resolutions.  The  friends  of  Douglas  favored  a  re- 
affirmation of  the  Cincinnati  platform  of  1856,  with  the 
addition  only  of  a  clause  declaring  that  doubtful  points 
as  to  constitutional  interpretation  were  to  be  decided  by 
the  Supreme  Court.  But  the  thorough- going  Southern- 
ers insisted  on  an  explicit  declaration  that  slavery  could 
in  no  way  be  excluded  from  the  territories.  For  the 
Douglas  men  to  accept  this  would  have  been  humiliation 
for  them  and  sure  defeat  for  the  party.  Neither  he  nor 
any  other  candidate  could  carry  the  doubtful  Northern 
states  on  such  a  platform.  On  the  other  hand,  the  def- 
erence to  the  Supreme  Court  which  his  friends  offered  to 
pledge  left  the  old  convenient  ambiguity  on  which  to 
win  votes,  with  an  open  door  for  all  the  South  wanted, 
through  a  Democratic  Administration  and  Court.  If 
the  question  were  merely  one  of  dexterous  strategy  for 
winning  the  presidential  election,  the  advantage  lay  all 
on  the  side  of  the  Douglas  resolutions.  But  the  South 
was  in  dead  earnest  for  something  more  than  the  presi- 
dency,— for  an  absolute,  unequivocal  guaranty  that  slave 
property  should  be  as  fully  recognized  and  protected  as 
any  other  property.  The  Douglas  resolutions  were  car- 
ried, and  thereupon  the  members  from  the  Gulf  states 
left  the  house,  and   organized  a  separate   convention. 


THE  ELECTION   OF  LINCOLN.  261 

Even  then  Douglas  was  not  at  once  nominated ;  the 
Administration  had  still  many  friends  left  in  the  con- 
vention, including  its  president,  Caleb  Gushing ;  and  it 
was  decided  that  the  old  rule  making  a  two-thirds  vote 
necessary  for  nomination  should  be  construed  as  includ- 
ing in  the  canvass  of  membership  the  places  of  the 
seceders, — and  Douglas  could  not  obtain  a  two-thirds  vote 
in  this  case.  Finally  the  convention  adjourned  for  sev- 
eral weeks,  to  meet  in  Baltimore. 

When  it  re-assembled  there  at  the  end  of  June,  there 
was  another  struggle.  Douglas  delegations,  which  had 
been  elected  from  some  states  to  fill  the  places  of  the 
seceders,  were  admitted  against  a  protest  of  a  minority 
of  the  convention.  Thereupon  this  minority,  including 
Gushing,  General  Butler,  and  a  majority  of  the  Massa- 
chusetts delegates,  added  themselves  to  the  orig-inal 
seceders.  Those  who  remained  then  nominated  Douglas. 
The  second  place  on  the  ticket  was  given  to  Herschel  Y. 
Johnson,  of  Georgia. 

The  rival  convention  also  adjourned,  to  meet  in 
Baltimore,  at  the  same  time  with  the  other — the  two 
bodies  being  nearly  equal  in  numbers.  It  re-afBrmed  the 
Gincinnati  platform,  but  dispelled  its  ambiguity  by  added 
resolutions,  declaring  that  so  long  as  the  territorial  gov- 
ernment exists — being  in  its  nature  temporary  and  pro- 
visional —  all  citizens  of  the  United  States  have  an  equal 
right  to  settle,  without  the  impairing  of  any  of  their 
rights  of  person  or  property,  either  by  congressional  or 
territorial  legislation;  and  that  Gougress  is  bound  to 
protect  those  rights — including  the  slave-owner's — until, 
upon  organization  as  a  state,  the  people  decide  the  ques- 
tion of  slavery  for  themselves.  The  convention  nomi- 
nated John  G.  Breckinridge,  of  Kentucky,  for  the 
presidency,  and  Joseph  Lane,  of  Oregon,  for  the  vice- 
presidency. 


262     THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

The  Republican,  June  25,  said : 

''  We  rejoice  tliat  there  has  been  at  last  a  determined  and 
successfTil  North  in  a  Democratic  National  Convention ;  and  we 
honor  Stephen  A.  Douglas,  that  he  has  had  the  firmness  and 
the  will  to  lead  it.  We  rejoice,  not  chiefly  because  this  fact 
dissevers  and  destroys  the  Democratic  party,  and  renders  a 
Repubhcan  triumph  easy  and  welcome  to  the  country ;  but  be- 
cause, party  aside,  it  is  an  important  element  in  the  pohtical 
revolution  now  rapidly  coming  to  a  head,  and  in  the  pacifica- 
tion of  the  sectional  strife  which  has  raged  so  bitterly  for  the 
past  twelve  years.  .  .  .  The  fight  and  the  victory  of  the 
Northern  Democracy  are  an  anti-slaveiy  fight  and  an  anti- 
slavery  victorj'.  .  .  .  The  way  is  now  easy  to  the  completion 
of  the  revolution  by  the  entrance  of  the  Repubhcan  party  into 
the  possession  of  the  government,  with  the  acquiescence  of  the 
great  mass  of  the  people  of  the  nation,  and  with  the  disposition 
on  all  sides  to  give  it  a  fair  practical  trial." 

Between  the  Charleston  and  Baltimore  conventions, 
the  Republicans  had  met  at  Chicago.  George  Ashmun, 
of  Springfield,  was  made  president  of  the  convention.  It 
adopted  a  long  series  of  resolutions,  which  condemned 
disunion  and  inter-state  invasion ;  were  silent  as  to  the 
fugitive  slave  and  personal  liberty  laws;  and  on  the 
territorial  question  took  direct  issue  with  the  Southern 
position,  by  denying  the  right  either  of  Congi-ess  or  a 
territorial  legislature  to  legalize  slavery  in  a  territory. 
The  great  interest  of  the  gathering  centered  in  the 
struggle  for  the  nomination,  a  struggle  principally 
between  the  friends  and  foes  of  Mr.  Seward.  He  was 
unquestionably  the  foremost  man  of  his  party.  All 
that  could  prevent  the  nomination  was  the  doubt 
whether  he  could  be  elected.  Thurlow  Weed  led  the 
party  of  Seward,  Evarts  was  its  foremost  spokesman 
on  the  floor,  and  Greeley  was  active  among  his  oppo- 
nents.   Mr.  Bowles,  who  reported  the  convention   for 


THE   ELECTION   OF   LINCOLN.  263 

his  paper,  was  an  admii-er  of  Seward  and  of  Weed. 
But  he  thought  that  the  consideration  of  expediency- 
should  under  the  circumstances  be  decisive,  and  that  to 
nominate  Seward  was  to  seriously  imperil  the  victory  of 
the  party.  The  Bejmblican^s  favorite  candidate  had  been 
Governor  Banks,  but  he  found  no  support  in  the  con- 
vention. Seward's  leading  rivals  had  been  supposed  to 
be  Senator  Chase,  and  Edward  Bates  of  Missoui'i  —  the 
latter  supported  by  the  Tribune.  Lincoln  became  promi- 
nent only  at  the  last.  He  had  an  enthusiastic  support 
from  the  West.  Simon  Cameron  was  a  nominal  candi- 
date, and  controlled  the  Pennsylvania  delegation.  Lamon 
circumstantially  narrates  that  Lincoln's  friends,  without 
his  knowledge,  made  a  bargain  with  Cameron's  repre- 
sentatives for  the  votes  of  the  delegation,  to  be  repaid 
by  a  place  for  Cameron  in  Lincoln's  cabinet ;  and  that  a 
similai*  compact  was  made  in  behalf  of  Caleb  B.  Smith, 
of  Indiana, —  both  agreements  being  reluctantly  kept  by 
Lincoln  when  he  was  told  of  them.  The  argument  that 
he  could  carry  the  doubtful  states  was  effectively  used 
with  other  delegations.  The  great  crowd  of  spectators 
were  loud  for  him.  On  the  fii'st  ballot,  Seward  was  far 
ahead ;  on  the  second,  Pennsylvania  changed  from  Cam- 
eron to  Lincoln,  and  he  came  up  abreast  of  Seward;  on 
the  third,  four  votes  from  Ohio  turned  the  scale,  and, 
with  universal  acquiescence,  Lincoln  was  nominated. 
Experience  in  administration  he  had  none,  and  in  legis- 
lation very  little.  For  the  problems  which  a  Republican 
president  would  encounter,  his  capacity  was  almost  un- 
known. He  was  recognized  as  an  able  debater,  a  man 
thoroughly  honest,  by  origin  and  associations  identified 
with  the  common  people,  and  very  popular  in  his  own 
state.  His  nomination  over  Seward  was  supposed  to  be 
the  preference  of  unobjectionable  mediocrity  to  greatness 
which  had  made  dangerous  enemies.     For  the  vice-presi- 


264     THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

dency,  Hannibal  Hamlin,  of  Maine,  was  nominated.  That 
the  two  candidates  on  the  ticket  were  both  from  the 
North — in  1860  as  in  1856 — was  contrary  to  the  general 
usage  of  parties,  and  was  an  illustration  of  the  "sec- 
tionalism "  urged  against  the  Republicans.  If  they  had 
nominated  a  vice-president  from  the  South,  he  would  have 
been  fortunate  if  he  met  with  nothing  worse  than  exile 
from  his  home. 

There  was  a  fourth  ticket  in  the  field.  John  Bell,  of 
Tennessee,  and  Edward  Everett  were  nominated  by  a 
''Constitutional  Union"  convention  which  met  at  Balti- 
more early  in  May.  It  was  a  sort  of  remnant  of  the  old 
Whig  party.  Its  resolutions  were  simply  a  declaration 
for  "  The  Constitution  of  the  Country,  the  Union  of  the 
States,  and  the  Enforcement  of  the  Laws."  It  repre- 
sented an  attempt  to  make  the  preservation  of  the  Union 
and  the  Constitution  the  supreme  issue,  and  to  wholly 
ignore  the  slavery  question.  The  result  showed  that  this 
was  the  predominant  sentiment  in  the  great  tier  of  border 
slave  states.  But  the  party  was  laughed  at  by  the  stren- 
uous combatants  on  either  side.  "  Its  ticket,"  said  the 
Kepuhlican,  '^  is  universally  respectable.  It  is  worthy  to 
be  printed  on  gilt-edged  satin  paper,  laid  away  in  a  box 
of  musk,  and  kept  there.  .  .  .  It  is  the  party  of  no 
idea  and  no  purpose.  ...  It  might  as  well  have 
taken  the  multiplication  table  and  the  decalogue  for  its 
platform  as  the  Constitution  and  the  Union."  Yet  this 
party  recognized  what  the  Bepublican  and  its  party 
wholly  failed  to  appreciate — that  the  Union  was  in 
imminent  danger. 

The  campaign  at  the  North  was  a  quiet,  decorous,  and 
almost  languid  one.  The  election  of  Lincoln  was  fore- 
seen from  the  first.  There  were  no  "burning  questions" 
of  immediate  practical  administration,  such  as  Kansas 


THE  ELECTION   OF  LINCOLN.  265 

had  furnished  in  1856.  The  broad  question  at  issue  was 
whether  a  party  disposed  to  restrict  and  discourage 
slavery  wherever  the  Constitution  gave  it  scope  to  do 
so,  was  to  administer  the  government.  Specific  ques- 
tions other  than  that  of  the  territories  were  little 
discussed  on  either  side.  The  South  gave  the  most 
substantial  issue  to  the  canvass,  by  the  threat  of  seces- 
sion if  the  Republicans  were  successful.  Douglas,  being 
questioned  during  a  speech  at  Norfolk,  Va.,  declared 
that  the  election  of  Lincoln  would  not  justify  secession, 
and  he  would  support  a  Republican  administration  in 
putting  down  nullification  by  force.  He  asked  that 
Breckinridge  would  state  his  position  on  this  question, 
but  Breckinridge  took  no  notice  of  the  inquiry.  The 
North  remained  incredulous  of  the  South's  purpose  of 
disunion,  but  the  menace  of  it  was  recognized  as  giving 
significance  to  the  election.  The  Bepiiblican  thus  spoke, 
August  25,  of  ''  The  Issues  of  this  Campaign  " : 

"  The  South,  through  the  mouth  of  many  of  its  leading  poU- 
ticians  and  journals,  defies  the  North  to  elect  Abraham  Lincoln 
to  the  presidency.  It  threatens  secession  in  case  he  shaU  be 
elected.  It  arrogantly  declares  that  he  shall  never  take  his 
seat.  It  passes  resolutions  of  the  most  outrageous  and  inso- 
lent character,  insulting  every  man  who  dares  to  vote  for  what 
they  caU  a  '  Black  Republican.'  To  make  a  long  matter  very 
short  and  plain,  they  claim  the  privilege  of  conducting  the 
government  in  all  the  future,  as  they  have  in  ah  the  past,  for 
their  own  benefit  and  in  their  own  way,  with  the  alternative  of 
dissolving  the  Union  of  the  states.  Now,  if  the  non-slave- 
holding  people  have  any  spirit  at  aU,  they  wiU  settle  this  ques- 
tion at  once  and  forever.  Look  at  the  history  of  the  last  two 
administrations,  in  which  the  slave  interest  has  had  undisputed 
sway.  This  sway,  the  most  disgraceful  and  shameless  of  any- 
thing in  the  history  of  the  government,  must  not  be  thrown 
off  or  else  the  Union  wiU  be  dissolved.    Let's  try  it !    Are  we 


266     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

forever  to  be  governed  by  a  slave-holding  minority  1  Will  the 
passage  of  four  years  more  of  misrule  make  it  any  easier  for 
the  majority  to  assume  its  functions  ? 

"  There  are  many  reasons  why  we  desire  to  see  this  experi- 
ment tried  this  fall.  If  the  majority  cannot  rule  the  country 
without  the  secession  of  the  minority,  it  is  time  the  country 
knew  it.  If  the  country  can  only  exist  under  the  rule  of  an 
ohgarchy,  let  the  fact  be  demonstrated  at  once,  and  let  us 
change  our  institutions.  We  desire  to  see  the  experiment  tried, 
because  we  wish  to  have  the  Southern  people,  who  have  been 
bUnded  and  cheated  by  the  politicians,  leam  that  a  '  Black  Re- 
pviblican '  respects  the  requirements  of  the  Constitution  and  will 
protect  their  interests.  Harmony  between  the  two  sections  of 
this  country  can  never  be  secured  until  the  South  has  learned 
that  the  North  is  not  its  enemy  but  its  best  friend.  We  desire 
to  see  it  tried,  that  the  whole  horde  of  corrupt  of&cials  at  Wash- 
ington may  be  swept  by  the  board,  and  something  of  decency 
and  purity  introduced  there.  We  desire  to  see  it,  that  the 
government  may  be  restored  to  its  original  integrity.  And  any 
Northern  man  who  has  not  pluck  enough  to  stand  up  and  help 
do  this  thing  is  a  paltroon.  It  will  be  tried,  and  our  minority 
friends  may  make  up  their  mind  to  it." 

Just  before  the  State  Republican  Convention,  Governor 
Banks  declined  a  renomination.  The  Bejnihlican  enthu- 
siastically declared  for  Mr.  Dawes  as  his  successor. 
Against  John  A.  Andrew's  nomination  it  objected  that 
his  "  more  than  Republican  position "  on  the  slavery- 
question  made  him  an  inappropriate  representative  of 
the  party,  and  would  repel  some  moderate  men.  In  the 
convention,  the  western  Massachusetts  delegates  were 
not  fully  united  upon  Mr.  Dawes,  and  he  received  but 
326  votes  to  723  for  Mr.  Andrew.  The  Republican'' s  com- 
ment was,  August  30 : 

**  We  do  not  beheve  this  a  wise  or  politic  nomination;  yet  we 
have  no  doubt  he  wiU  prove  a  wise  and  politic  governor.  He 
has  a  warm  heart  but  a  cool  head ;  he  may  be  hot  and  extreme  in 


THE  ELECTION   OF   LINCOLN.  267 

individual  expression,  going'  beyond,  as  he  often  does,  the  lines 
of  the  Repubhcan  organization  and  platform,  but  he  feels 
keenly  the  responsibilities  of  power  and  follows  kindly  the  con- 
servatising  influences  of  position,  .  .  The  RepubHcans  can 
lose  10,000  votes  on  Mr.  Andrew  and  not  endanger  his  election. 
His  John  Brown  sympathies  and  speeches,  his  Garrisonian  affil- 
iations, his  negro-training  predilections  and  all  that  sort  of 
extreme  anti-slaveryism  with  which  his  record  abounds,  will 
be  trumpeted  far  and  wide  in  the  state  to  injure  him,  and  out 
of  it  to  harm  Lincoln ;  and  though  it  wiU  doubtless  have  its 
effect  in  frightening  timid  and  conservative  recruits,  it  wiU 
strengthen  others  to  labor,  and  can  hardly  anywhere  change  or 
endanger  results." 

But  Andrew  was  the  man  for  the  time.  From  the  days 
of  the  Liberty  party  he  had  been  identified  with  consti- 
tutional opposition  to  slavery.  He  was  lion-hearted  and 
woman-hearted.  He  represented  the  purest  conscience, 
the  clearest  intelligence,  the  most  earnest  purpose,  of 
New  England  —  and  at  last  the  New  England  idea  was 
to  be  tried  out  against  the  South  Carolina  idea. 

While  the  South  was  imputing  to  the  North  the  most 
hostile  designs  against  slavery,  no  other  action  against 
it  was  intended  or  expected  among  the  Republicans  than 
the  gradual  appearance  of  emancipation  as  a  local  politi- 
cal issue  in  the  border  states,  and  their  slow  conversion 
to  freedom,  and  the  encouragement  of  a  Republican 
party  at  the  South  by  the  influence  of  the  Administration. 
"  What  changes  may  occur  within  the  next  half-century," 
said  the  UepiibUcan,  October  20,  1860,  "to  hasten  the 
work  of  negro  emancipation  on  this  continent,  no  one 
can  foresee,  but  present  appearances  indicate  its  gradual 
retreat  southward,  and  an  irrepressible  conflict  in  the 
slave  states,  protracted  long  after  the  question  has  been 
completely  removed  from  national  politics." 

It  was  the  division  of  theii*  opponents  that  gave 
the  election  to  the  Republicans.     Of  the  popular  vote. 


268     THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

Lincoln  received  about  1,860,000,  Douglas  1,370,000, 
Breckinridge  840,000,  and  BeU  590,000.  In  the  electoral 
college,  Lincoln  had  180  votes,  Breckinridge  72,  Bell  39, 
and  Douglas  12.  Lincoln  had  the  electoral  vote  of  every 
Northern  state  save  New  Jersey,  which  was  divided  be- 
tween him  and  Douglas ;  Douglas  had  in  addition  only 
the  vote  of  Missouri ;  Bell  carried  Kentuck}',  Tennessee, 
and  Virginia;  and  the  other  Southern  states  were  for 
Breckinridge.  Massachusetts  gave  Andrew  104,000  votes, 
Beach  (Douglas)  35,000,  Lawi-ence  (Bell)  24,000,  and 
Butler  (Breckinridge)  6000. 

''  To  completely  remove  the  question  of  slavery  from 
national  politics,"  leaving  each  state  to  slowly  work  out 
the  problem  for  itself — that  was  the  expectation  with 
which  the  Bepuhlican,  a  sagacious,  representative  New 
England  newspaper,  welcomed  the  approaching  presi- 
dency of  Abraham  Lincoln.  The  North  for  the  most 
part  looked  for  a  subsidence  of  all  slavery  agitations, 
and  the  direction  of  the  government's  energies  to  pro- 
mote the  material  prosperity  of  white  people  in  general, 
instead  of  as  heretofore  the  exclusive  interest  of  the  slave- 
holding  states.  The  Abolitionists  were  little  elated — 
freedom  for  those  in  bondage  scarcely  looked  nearer  for 
a  Republican  victory.  The  South  was  looking  forward 
to  a  career  as  an  independent  nation.  The  four  million 
slaves  looked  for  no  change  in  their  lot,  and  were  either 
unconscious  of  the  struggle  or  indifferent  respecting 
its  issues. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Secession. 

THE  result  of  the  election  was  no  sooner  known  than 
the  South  Carolinians  began  to  take  action  for  the 
secession  of  their  state  with  a  vigor  which  allowed  no 
doubt  of  the  seriousness  of  their  purpose.  An  energetic 
movement  in  the  same  direction  began  at  once  in 
all  the  Gulf  and  cotton  states.  The  North  was  almost 
as  much  surprised  as  if  it  had  received  no  warning. 
Mr.  Seward  had  said  toward  the  close  of  the  canvass: 
"I  do  not  think  these  threats  before  election  are  evi- 
dences of  revolution  and  disunion  after  election,  for  the 
simple  reason  that  I  have  always  found  that  a  man  who 
does  intend  to  strike  a  fatal  blow  does  not  give  notice  so 
long  beforehand."  Such  reasoning  was  good  as  against 
the  idea  of  a  secret  plot  of  a  few  conspirators,  to  which 
the  North  was  long  inclined  to  impute  the  origin  of 
secession.  But  in  truth  the  movement  toward  it  was  as 
open,  and  its  causes  as  patent,  as  in  the  case  of  any  other 
revolution.  The  South  saw  in  the  election  of  Lincoln 
the  triumph  of  a  party  whose  central  principle  and 
motive  was  hostility  to  the  South's  most  character- 
istic institution.  The  avowed  doctrine  of  the  Republican 
party  was  the  exclusion  of  slavery  from  the  territories. 
The  sentiment  which  underlay  and  inspired  that  doctrine 
was  dislike  to  slavery  in  itself  and  everywhere ;  —  so  much 


270     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

the  South  knew,  and  it  had  no  faith  that  the  sentiment 
would  be  restrained  in  its  expression  by  that  loyalty  to 
the  Constitution  which  the  Republicans  professed.  Its 
unbelief  was  not  so  totally  unfounded  as  the  Republicans 
themselves  supposed.  The  sentiment  which  lies  deepest 
at  the  heart  of  a  man  or  a  party  has  a  constant  tendency 
to  draw  into  line  with  itself  the  workings  of  the  mind, 
to  convert  the  head,  and  finally  to  direct  the  act.  Beyond 
question,  a  Republican  administration  would  give  effect- 
ive aid  to  any  party  of  emancipation  that  should  grow 
up  within  a  slave  state.  Such  a  party  was  already 
formidable  in  Missouri,  and  was  likely  soon  to  spread 
through  the  border  states.  An  influence  vast  though 
indirect  would  be  exerted  to  loosen  the  hold  of  the  slave 
power  on  the  Southern  people.  So  far  the  Southern 
leaders  were  right  in  their  apprehensions, —  slavery  was 
menaced  in  its  own  home  by  the  election  of  Lincoln. 

But  the  menace  was  a  remote  and  indirect  one,  and  at 
this  point  the  Southern  people  misjudged.  They  imputed 
to  the  Republicans  sentiments  and  purposes  of  active 
aggression  such  as  even  the  Abolitionists  had  never  enter- 
tained. Thus  in  Georgia's  declaration  of  secession,  one 
of  the  ablest  documents  of  its  class,  and  attributed  to 
Toombs,  it  is  said  of  the  party  which  had  just  elected 
Lincoln : 

"  The  prohibition  of  slavery  in  the  territories,  hostiHty  to  it 
everywhere,  the  equaUty  of  the  white  and  the  black  races,  dis- 
regard of  all  constitutional  guaranties  in  its  favor,  were  boldly 
proclaimed  by  its  leaders  and  applauded  by  its  followers." 

This  was  the  ordinary  tone  of  the  Southern  politicians 
and  newspapers.  Charges  of  disloyalty  to  the  Constitu- 
tion and  indifference  to  the  Union  were  constantly  and 
freely  made  at  the  North  by  the  Democratic  and  "  Union- 
ist" opponents  of  the  Republicans.     Douglas  said  in  the 


SECESSION.  271 

Senate  in  January,  1860,  that  the  Harper's  Ferry  outrage 
was  the  natiu-al,  logical,  and  inevitable  result  of  the  doc- 
trines and  teachings  of  the  Republican  party,  as  expressed 
in  the  party  platform,  by  the  party  presses,  and  in  the 
speeches  of  the  party  leaders.  Up  to  the  election  and 
afterward,  the  Boston  Courier  —  the  representative  of  a 
party  which  included  such  men  as  Everett  and  Win- 
throp  —  habitually  charged  the  Republican  party  with 
John  Brownism  and  disunionism.  And  thus  the  South, 
misled  by  this  rage  of  party  spirit,  grossly  exaggerated 
and  misconstrued  the  purpose  of  the  Repiiblican  party. 

Such  was  the  immediate  provocation,  real  and  imagi- 
nary, to  secession.  It  is  to  be  remembered  that  slave 
labor  was  the  chief  element  in  Southern  industry;  the 
foundation  of  its  agiiculture  and  of  its  commerce ;  the 
environment  of  its  family  life,  with  personal  relations 
often  of  the  kindliest;  the  corner-stone  of  its  social 
system.  That  system  was  thoroughly  aristocratic,  with 
the  slaves  as  its  base,  an  intermediate  stratum  of  poor 
and  debased  whites,  and  at  the  summit  a  proud,  luxuri- 
ous, and  brilliant  aristocracy,  made  up  in  the  country  of 
planters,  and  in  the  cities  of  their  mercantile  and  profes- 
sional allies  and  associates.  For  this  aristocratic  class 
politics  was  the  highest  field  of  energy  and  ambition, 
and  engaged  the  best  ability  of  the  community,  such  as 
at  the  North  found  outlet  largely  in  great  industrial 
enterprises  or  in  literature.  Thus  the  South  was  far 
more  dominated  by  politicians  than  the  North,  and  the 
personal  ambition  to  rule,  which  in  the  one  section  had 
to  fit  itself  to  the  sentiments  of  the  common  people,  could 
in  the  other  section  dictate  to  the  people.  Throughout 
the  community  public  sentiment  had  for  many  years 
been  intensifying  in  support  of  slavery.  The  position  of 
toleration  or  apology  had  been  exchanged  for  one  of 
enthusiastic  advocacy.     To  this  change  two  main  factors 


272     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

had  contributed  —  the  growth  of  the  cotton-raising  in- 
terest and  the  denunciations  of  the  Abolitionists.  The 
practice  of  the  latter,  for  thirty  years  continued,  of  de- 
nouncing slave-holders  as  the  worst  of  criminals,  had 
somehow  failed  to  convert  them  from  their  sins.  What 
the  Abolitionists  said  passionately,  the  civilized  world 
was  beginning  calmly  to  say  and  to  feel.  The  South, 
thus  criticised,  was  stung  to  self -justification  until  it  ex- 
alted slavery,  on  grounds  economic,  social,  and  religious, 
as  among  the  greatest  of  earthly  blessings,  and  for  the 
benighted  Africans  the  providential  opening  of  eternal 
salvation. 

The  ruling  power  at  the  South  was  intensely  intolerant. 
All  dislike  of  slavery,  however  mildly  expressed,  was 
frowned  upon,  all  open  dissent  was  crushed  out.  Purse 
and  passion  were  on  the  same  side;  the  South's  great 
industry  was  agriculture,  and  of  its  agriculture  the  staple 
was  cotton  raised  by  slave  labor.  In  a  word,  the  South 
gloried  in  slavery,  and  the  North  abhorred  it.  In  a 
democracy  such  convictions  tend  to  express  themselves 
in  political  action, — and  so  the  two  opposite  sentiments 
drifted  irresistibly  toward  collision.  The  North,  having 
on  its  side  the  forces  of  nature,  and  finding  political 
ascendency  coming  within  its  reach, —  being  moreover  by 
habit  patient  and  law-abiding,  and  also  having  no  imme- 
diate contact  in  its  interior  life  with  the  subject  of  dis- 
pute,— was  well  content  to  trust  the  issue  to  time,  and 
to  established  and  peaceful  procedure.  The  South,  hav- 
ing for  ten  years  found  its  victories  barren  ones,  and 
having  now  lost  the  control  of  the  Federal  government ; 
feeling  itself  endangered  more  or  less,  in  the  chief  muscle, 
the  most  sensitive  nerve,  of  its  social  organism  ;  and 
being  always  of  a  masterful  temper  and  hot  blood, 
was  prompt  to  cut  the  knot  of  a  union  that  had  grown 
irksome  and  hateful. 


SECESSION.  273 

Ready  to  its  hand  for  the  purpose  of  separation  stood 
a  political  theory  long  cherished  at  the  South  and  repu- 
diated at  the  North, —  state  sovereignty.  The  North  in 
general  held  that  while  the  powers  of  sovereignty  were 
divided  between  the  individual  states  and  the  Federal 
Union,  yet  that  the  latter  was  an  organic  union  of  the 
whole  people,  and  indissoluble.  The  South  in  general 
held  that  the  Union  was  an  alliance  of  independent  states 
which  might  separate  at  will.  To  the  Southern  mind, 
therefore,  secession  was  not  revolution;  the  issue  which 
it  presented  to  the  state  was  not  of  loyalty  but  of  expe- 
diency ;  and  when  the  state  had  decided,  the  obedience  of 
the  citizen  was  due,  not  to  the  Union,  but  to  his  state, 
whether  in  the  Union  or  out  of  it.  It  was  this  conviction, 
that  paramount  allegiance  was  due  to  the  state,  which 
was  decisive  after  their  states  had  left  the  Union, 
in  the  minds  of  men  like  Robert  E.  Lee, —  men  as  con- 
scientious and  high-minded  as  any  who  fought  against 
them.  But  in  the  original  Secessionists  the  motive  was 
the  maintenance  of  slavery  and  of  the  political  power 
of  the  aristocracy. 

The  South  Carolinians,  then,  being  pretty  much  of  one 
mind  in  the  matter,  proceeded  immediately  on  the  elec- 
tion of  Lincoln  to  dissolve  the  connection  of  their  state 
with  the  Union.  The  Federal  judges,  marshals,  and 
other  officials  throughout  the  state  resigned  their  offices. 
The  United  States  senators,  Hammond  and  Chestnut, 
resigned.  A  convention  was  called  by  the  legislature, 
chosen  by  the  people,  and  before  the  end  of  December  it 
had  declared  the  state  independent  of  the  Federal  Union. 
The  other  Gulf  states  moved  more  slowly.  There  was 
some  debate  and  division  among  their  leaders;  some 
waiting  to  see  w^hat  Congress  would  do — waiting  that 
ended  when,  early  in  the  new  year,  their  congressional 
representatives  telegraphed  home  in  favor  of  prompt 
Vol.  I.— 18 


274     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BO\\TLES. 

secession ;  and,  before  the  end  of  February,  Georgia, 
Florida,  Mississippi,  Alabama,  and  Louisiana  had  fol- 
lowed South  Carolina's  example,  and  organized  with  her 
a  Southern  Confederacy,  with  a  constitution  closely  re- 
sembling that  of  the  United  States,  and  with  Jefferson 
Davis  as  its  president. 

The  secession  movement  found  the  North  unprepared, 
amazed,  and  distracted  with  conflicting  views  and  pur- 
poses. There  were  no  precedents  for  such  an  emergency, 
no  clear  principles  for  dealing  with  it.  The  Administra- 
tion was  utterly  helpless.  The  Republican  party  had 
never  contemplated  such  a  state  of  things,  nor  agreed  on 
even  the  most  general  attitude  toward  it.  There  was  a 
chaos  of  opposing  counsels.  Men  did  not  know  their 
own  minds,  and  changed  from  day  to  day.  The  Seces- 
sionists had  a  clear  purpose,  and  followed  it  steadily  and 
successfully.  They  made  all  the  Gulf  states  their  own  ; 
they  gained  a  strong  and  growing  hold  on  the  border 
states ;  forts  and  navy  yards  fell  into  their  hands  5  not  a 
shot  was  fired  against  them,  not  a  blow  was  struck ; 
their  Confederacy  was  organized ;  within  four  months 
they  could  boast  of  creating  a  new  nation.  The  Federal 
government  had  done  nothing  to  protect  itself;  the 
North  did  not  even  know  what  it  wanted  to  do,  was  not 
resolved  to  fight,  was  not  willing  the  seceding  states 
should  go,  was  unsure  of  its  own  people  and  its  own  heart. 
Yet,  hesitatingly,  gropingly,  its  mind  was  working  to  a 
clear  purpose,  its  heart  was  nerving  itself  for  a  mighty 
effort. 

When,  within  a  week  after  the  election.  South  Carolina 
made  evident  her  piu-pose  to  secede,  there  was  on  the 
part  of  some  Republicans  a  willingness  to  let  them  go  if 
they  wished  to.     The  Tribune  said  : 

"  If  the  cotton  states  shall  decide  that  thej'-  can  do  better  out 
of  the  Union  than  in  it,  we  insist  on  letting  them  go  in  peace. 


SECESSION.  275 

Whenever  a  considerable  section  of  our  Union  shall 
deliberately  resolve  to  go  out,  we  shall  resist  all  coercive  meas- 
ures designed  to  keep  it  in.  We  hope  never  to  hve  in  a  republic 
whereof  one  section  is  pinned  to  the  residue  by  bayonets." 

Thus,  one  strong  sentiment  of  the  hour  was  that  of  the  im- 
possibility of  maintaining  by  force  a  Union  which  should 
have  any  value;  the  impossibility  of  self-government  with- 
out the  consent  of  the  governed.  The  Repuhlicaii's  first 
position  was  (November  10)  that  all  the  Southern  states 
except  South  Carolina  would  decide  against  secession ; 
that  it  was  obviously  against  their  interest  to  secede; 
that  Soiith  Carolina  might  go  if  she  would,  but  must  not 
touch  the  Federal  forts  in  her  borders,  or  refuse  to  pay 
the  Federal  duties  on  her  imports,  under  penalty  of 
armed  coercion.  It  held  (November  15)  that  if  South 
Carolina  would  seek  a  dissolution  by  peaceable  negotia- 
tions and  mutual  agreement,  it  would  be  and  ought  to 
be  granted.  "A  Union  that  must  be  maintained  by  force 
is  not  desirable."  No  such  withdrawal,  it  continues,  is 
contemplated  or  provided  for  by  the  Constitution,  but  it 
would  be  legitimate  and  expedient  to  grant  it  if  South 
Carolina  lays  her  grievance  before  the  country  and  seeks 
a  peaceable  dissolution  of  partnership.  But  South  Caro- 
lina, it  was  soon  apparent,  would  do  nothing  of  the  kind; 
she  did  not  ask  a  favor,  but  claimed  a  right,  and  drew 
her  sword  to  enforce  it  if  resisted.  She  at  once  began  to 
arm.  Throughout  the  neighboring  states  the  martial 
fever  spread,  among  a  population  accustomed  to  the  use 
of  arms  and  fond  of  military  glory. 

Of  the  former  political  allies  of  the  South,  many  were 
loud  in  calling  for  conciliations  and  compromise.  Among 
the  Republicans  in  general  the  disposition  was  strong 
against  any  material  concession.  The  prevalent  temper 
of  Massachusetts  was  against  any  concession  whatever. 
When  the  Republican  advocated  the  repeal  of  the  per- 


276     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

sonal  liberty  law,  it  had  against  it  almost  the  whole 
strength  of  the  party.  The  paper  urged  that  the  law, 
while  perhaps  not  in  its  letter  unconstitutional,  was 
intended  to  thwart  the  execution  of  a  United  States 
statute ;  that  it  had  never  been  of  the  least  practical 
use,  and  that  by  repealing  laws  of  this  class,  the  North 
would  remove  the  one  real  grievance  of  the  South,  and 
would  show  not  cowardice  but  a  manly  willingness  to  do 
right.  Governor  Banks,  in  his  parting  message,  argued 
in  the  same  direction.  But  the  inaugural  of  his  suc- 
cessor, Grovernor  Andrew,  took  opposite  ground,  and 
Andrew  and  not  Banks  was  the  representative  man  of 
the  party. 

Thurlow  "Weed,  in  the  Albany  Evening  Journal,  was 
urging  as  a  basis  of  agreement,  the  restoration  of  the 
Missouri  compromise  line,  and  instead  of  the  rendition 
of  fugitive  slaves  the  payment  of  their  money  value. 
The  Eeptthlican  (DecemJoer  11)  objected  to  any  proffer  on 
the  part  of  the  North  of  a  restoration  of  the  boundary 
line  which  had  been  overthrown  by  the  South's  own  act ; 
but  it  was  willing  that  if  the  South  would  propose  such 
restoration,  and  be  content  with  it,  it  should  be  accepted. 
The  yearly  number  of  escaping  fugitives,  it  remarked, 
was  not  above  2000,  at  an  outside  value  of  $2,000,000, 
and  the  payment  of  such  sum,  as  a  commutation  for  a 
distastefiil  obligation,  was  legitimate,  and  was  preferable 
to  the  consummation  of  secession. 

But  it  was  soon  apparent  that  no  such  concessions  as 
these  would  satisfy  the  South.  Congress  met ;  the  Presi- 
dent's message  argued  that  secession  was  not  permissible, 
but  that  there  was  no  authority  to  prevent  it  or  to  coerce 
a  state ;  and  in  both  Houses  the  leaders  of  the  two  sec- 
tions met  each  other  with  final  question  and  reply.  The 
North  saw  at  last  that  the  South,  the  Gulf  states  at  least, 
were  serious  in  their  purpose  to  leave  the  Union ;  would 


SECESSION.  277 

the  North  pay  the  price  they  demanded  as  theh'  right 
and  as  the  condition  of  their  remaining-?  That  price 
was — as  Toombs  summed  it  up  in  the  Senate  —  that 
slave-holders  should  be  allowed  to  take  their  property 
into  the  territories ;  that  slave  property  should  be  recog- 
nized by  the  government  in  all  its  departments  as  equally 
sacred  with  any  other  kind  of  property,  save  in  states 
which  excluded  it;  that  offenders  against  the  laws  of 
slave  states  should  be  surrendered  to  justice  in  those 
states;  that  fugitive  slaves  should  be  returned;  that 
Congress  should  prohibit  and  punish  insiu-rection  and 
invasion.  In  a  word:  Will  the  Federal  government 
take  slave  property  under  its  immediate  and  special  pro- 
tection ;  shall  slavery  be  made  national  and  general,  and 
freedom  be  the  sectional  exception  ?  "  Never ! "  said  the 
North,  through  its  congressmen.  "  Then,"  said  the  men 
of  the  Grulf  states,  "  we  will  leave  you ! "  That  was  the 
sum  and  substance  of  a  month's  debate,  and  early  in 
January  the  senators  and  representatives  of  six  states 
bade  a  stern  farewell  to  their  associates  in  Congress,  left 
their  places  vacant,  and  went  home  to  organize  and  arm 
a  new  nation. 

'^  How  shall  we  deal  with  the  seceders  ? "  was  a  question 
sorely  puzzling.  "  Say  to  them,  '  erring  sisters,  go  in 
peace ! ' "  was  the  counsel  of  some,  like  the  Trihune. 
"  Yes,  go  — but  touch  the  national  forts  in  your  harbors, 
or  refuse  to  pay  the  customs  duties,  at  your  peril ! "  So 
said  Senator  Wade,  a  representative  spokesman  of  his 
party  in  the  Senate.  "Be  patient;  give  them  time  to 
cool ;  offer  a  national  convention  to  talk  matters  over," 
said  men  like  Weed  and  Seward  and  Adams.  But  within 
two  months  from  Lincoln's  election,  the  tide  of  feeling 
had  swept  the  nation  to  the  verge  of  war.  Charleston 
harbor  was  the  focus  where  the  rays  of  passion  centered. 
A  little  company  of  troops  under  Major  Anderson  held 


278     THE   LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

forts  Moultrie  and  Sumter.  The  Carolinians  threw  up 
around  them  a  circle  of  menacing  fortifications.  Would 
the  government  reenforce  them,  as  they  lay  almost  at  the 
mercy  of  their  besiegers  1  "  Oh  for  an  hour  of  Jackson  ! " 
cried  the  Bepuhlicmi,  December  17,  when  Buchanan  de- 
clined to  risk  bloodshed  by  sending  reenforcements. 
Cass  left  the  cabinet  in  disgust  at  the  refusal.  Major 
Anderson,  December  26,  deftly  withdrew  his  handful  of 
men  from  Moultrie  on  the  mainland,  and  planted  himself 
in  water-locked  Sumter  ;  and  the  watching  North  cheered 
his  successful  maneuver.  The  President  changed  his 
mind  and  sent  the  steamer  Star  of  the  West  with  troops 
and  supplies;  the  forts  at  the  harbor  mouth  (January 
9)  opened  fire  on  her,  and  she  turned  in  silence  and 
went  back.  Those  guns  woke  in  the  North  a  pulse 
of  wrath ;  compromise  had  failed  at  Washington ;  the 
Gulf  states  were  seceding, —  now  the  South  had  struck 
at  the  flag.  "  Thus,"  said  the  Bepuhlican,  January  12, 
"the  final  act  of  the  disunion  drama  has  opened  upon 
us  by  the  perversity  of  South  Carolina."  Three  days 
before  it  had  said,  ''  There  is  but  one  voice  from  men 
of  all  parties  in  the  free  states,  and  it  calls  imperatively 
for  the  defense  of  the  Union  and  the  enforcement  of 
the  laws." 

But  the  tide  which  seemed  about  to  sweep  away  all 
barriers  of  peace  once  more  ebbed  for  a  little.  The 
nation's  heart  might  be  hot,  but  while  Buchanan  was 
President  its  hand  was  as  forceless  as  an  empty  glove. 
The  Southern  members  of  the  cabinet  had  resigned,  after 
doing  their  utmost  to  aid  the  seceders  ;  their  places  were 
filled  by  Northern  men  of  character  and  force, — Dix  and 
Stanton  and  Holt, — but  the  President  shrank  from  all 
vigorous  action.  It  was  scarcely  to  be  regretted  ;  for  the 
Northern  mind  was  not  yet  clear  nor  its  purpose  fixed. 
Seward,  regarded  as  the  foremost  man  in  the  coming 


SECESSION.  279 

administration,  spoke  in  the  Senate,  January  12,  and  his 
voice  was  weighty  for  a  calm,  patient  effort  toward  peace- 
ful reunion.  He  yielded  nothing  of  Republican  princi- 
ples, but  he  offered  a  programme  of  conciliation.  He 
proposed  that  all  unconstitutional  legislation  against  the 
return  of  fugitives  be  repealed ;  that  non-interference 
with  slavery  in  the  states  be  guaranteed,  if  the  South 
desired,  by  a  new  article  in  the  Constitution ;  that,  seces- 
sion being  abandoned,  and  after  a  year  or  two's  interval, 
there  be  held  a  constitutional  convention  ;  that  any 
proper  legislation  against  inter-state  invasion  be  granted ; 
and  that  as  a  material  bond  of  the  whole  country,  two 
Pacific  railways  be  constructed.  The  temper  of  the 
speech  fell  on  the  North  like  oil  on  troubled  waters. 
Congress,  calmed  by  the  withdrawal  of  the  fiery  seces- 
sion element,  labored  assiduously  with  great  special 
committees  to  devise  some  scheme  of  restoration.  The 
most  conspicuous  project  was  that  of  Senator  Critten- 
den of  Kentucky,  of  which  the  salient  feature  was  the 
restoration  of  the  Missouri  compromise  line,  as  applica- 
ble to  all  territory  present  or  hereafter  acquired ;  each 
new  state  to  determine  its  own  institutions.  To  this,  as 
contemplating  future  acquisitions  of  slave  territory  to 
the  southward,  the  North  would  not  consent.  Another 
plan  was  that  of  Charles  Francis  Adams,  then  in  the 
House,  which  proposed  the  immediate  admission  of  New 
Mexico  as  a  state,  her  people  deciding  the  slavery  ques- 
tion for  themselves  (there  were,  said  Mr.  Adams,  but 
twenty-two  slaves  held  there), —  and  thus  virtually  re- 
stored the  old  line  for  all  present  territory.  While  Con- 
gress debated  such  plans,  a  convention  was  held  at  the 
call  of  Virginia,  to  which  the  states,  except  the  six 
seceders,  sent  delegates,  to  discuss  the  situation  and 
devise  remedies.  In  all  these  discussions  it  was  recog- 
nized that  the  immediate  object  was  to  retain  the  yet 


280     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

unseceded  Soutliern  states.  Those  which  had  already 
formed  a  confederacy  were  scornfully  indifferent  to  all 
such  mild  palliatives.  But  if  the  other  Southern  states 
could  be  held,  there  was  hope  that  after  a  time  the  "way- 
ward sisters"  would  get  tired  of  their  isolation.  The 
border  states  were  the  prize  for  which  both  parties  were 
now  working.  On  Virginia  were  now  centered  the 
strongest  hopes  and  fears.  In  Virginia, —  and  largely 
also  in  Maryland,  North  Carolina,  Kentucky,  Tennessee, 
and  Missouri, — there  were  two  powerful  conflicting 
forces,  attachment  to  slavery  and  love  of  the  Union. 
Strong  sympathy  drew  Virginia  toward  her  sisters  of 
the  Gulf ;  strong  ties,  of  revolutionary  traditions,  of  a 
proud  place  in  the  whole  history  of  the  nation,  bound 
her  to  the  Union  and  its  flag.  She  wanted  the  North  to 
concede  the  Southern  demands;  failing  that,  she  wavered 
as  to  her  choice.  A  state  convention  was  called ;  im- 
mediate secession  was  rejected ;  the  representatives  of 
the  confederacy  were  strenuously  persuasive ;  the  com- 
promisers did  their  best.  But  all  compromise  came  to 
nothing.  The  fugitive  slave  law,  the  personal  liberty 
laws  —  nobody  really  cared  much  about  them  ;  the  Mis- 
souri compromise  talk  was  only  galvanizing  a  corpse. 
The  South  wanted  just  one  thing — that  property  in 
human  beings  should  be  put  on  an  equality  with  property 
in  cattle  or  horses.  Lincoln  went  to  the  bottom  of  the 
matter  when,  in  a  speech  at  the  Cooper  Institute  a  year 
before,  after  a  sober  and  searching  review  of  the  whole 
field,  he  said : 

"  What  will  satisfy  them  ?  Simply  this  :  we  must  not  only 
let  them  alone,  but  we  must  somehow  convince  them  that  we 
do  let  them  alone.  .  .  .  What  wiU  convince  them  ?  This, 
and  this  only :  cease  to  eaU  slavery  wrong,  and  join  them  in 
calling  it  right.  And  this  must  be  done  thoroughly  —  done  in 
acts  as  weU  as  in  words." 


SECESSION.  281 

So,  now,  all  the  talk  brought  matters  no  nearer  a 
settlement.  Out  of  it  all  a  single  measure  was  finally 
adopted,  Congi-ess,  at  the  close  of  the  session,  approved 
an  amendment  to  the  Constitution,  prohibiting  any 
future  amendment  to  authorize  Congress  to  interfere 
with  slavery  where  it  was  sanctioned  by  state  law. 
That — as  the  Thirteenth  Amendment — was  the  last 
proffer  of  the  North  to  the  South,  It  was  a  quite  dif- 
ferent Thirteenth  Amendment  which  met  the  South  on 
its  return  after  four  years. 

Any  who  had  believed,  as  many  did  believe,  Mr.  Bowles 
apparently  among  them,  that  the  new  President  was  to 
be  but  the  instrument  of  Mr.  Seward,  were  undeceived 
by  the  first  words  he  spoke  after  assuming  his  office. 
"  No  one,"  said  the  Republican,  March  5,  ''  can  doubt  that 
Mr.  Lincoln  is  the  sole  author  of  his  own  inaugural." 
One  thing  was  clear,  that  the  country  had  at  last  a  man 
for  its  chief  ruler, —  a  man  most  genuine  and  veracious, 
whose  effort  and  longing  were  toward  peace,  but  who 
held  a  steadfast  purpose  toward  national  unity.  The 
inaugural  was  a  sober,  calmly  reasoned,  and  weighty 
appeal  to  the  seceding  states ;  the  avowal,  firm,  but  with- 
out a  spark  of  passion,  that  secession  cannot  be  recog- 
nized, and  that  the  President  will  if  necessary  use  his 
authority  to  hold  the  national  forts  and  property  and  to 
collect  the  imposts,  though  he  will  not  use  force  for  any 
other  purpose  ;  and  the  assurance  that  if  the  Southerners 
will  submit  their  grievances  to  peaceful  arbitrament,  they 
shall  be  met  with  the  fullest  regard  for  every  moral  and 
constitutional  right.  The  language  of  the  address,  while 
lawyer-like  in  its  carefulness  of  statement,  was  yet  homely 
and  familiar  as  the  talk  of  a  plain  man  by  his  own  fiireside. 
At  the  end  it  rose  to  a  strain  of  pathetic  sublimity : 

'*  I  am  loath  to  close.  We  are  not  enemies,  but  friends.  We 
must  not  be  enemies.     Though  passion  may  have  strained,  it 


282     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF    SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

must  not  break  our  bonds  of  affection.  The  mystic  chords  of 
memory,  stretching  from  every  battle-field  and  patriot  grave  to 
every  Uving  heart  and  hearth-stone  all  over  this  broad  land, 
will  yet  swell  the  chorus  of  the  Union,  when  again  touched,  as 
surely  they  wiU  be,  by  the  better  angels  of  our  nature." 

The  cabinet  appointments  were  such  as  on  the  whole 
gave  encouraging  assurance  as  to  the  President's  catho- 
licity and  courage.  It  was  not  then  known  that  he  had 
offered  places  to  such  Southerners  as  Guthrie,  of  Ken- 
tucky, and  Gilmore,  of  North  Carolina.  Among  his  official 
councilors,  he  chose  his  foremost  rivals,  Seward,  Chase, 
and  Bates ;  the  other  places  were  filled  by  Montgomery 
Blair,  Gideon  Welles,  Caleb  B.  Smith,  and  Simon  Cam- 
eron. The  new  Administration  was  instantly  engaged 
with  an  army  of  place-hunters.  Lincoln  remarked  that 
the  office-seekers  would  not  leave  him  time  to  attend  to 
the  country;  he  was,  he  said,  like  a  man  obliged  to 
negotiate  with  lodgers  at  one  end  of  his  house  when  it 
was  on  fire  at  the  other  end. 

While  this  had  been  the  course  of  events,  the  mind  of 
the  Northern  people  had  been  struggling  with  contra- 
dictory impulses,  and  had  by  no  means  come  to  a  clear 
conclusion.  The  pages  of  the  Republican  reflect  many 
of  these  phases.  Through  the  perplexities  of  the  imme- 
diate situation,  the  great  substantial  fact  —  the  supreme 
fact,  as  history  now  makes  account  of  it  —  is  recognized, 
December  22,  in  an  article  which  thus  begins : 

"  Slavery  seems  to  be  gathering  itself  up  for  a  decisive  strug- 
gle. The  moral  forces  of  the  world  have  long  assailed  it,  and 
everywhere  religion,  morality,  and  poUtics  are  against  it. 
Its  stronghold  is  in  the  Southern  states  of  this 
Union.  .  .  .  Only  in  this  country  is  an  attempt  made  to 
throw  around  the  system  the  sanction  of  rehgion,  and  to 
uphold  it  as  a  good  and  proper  thing  in  itself,  and  worthy  to 


SECESSION.  283 

be  eherislied,  protected,  and  extended  over  other  lands.    Here 
it  seems  to  be  rushing  upon  a  decisive  battle-field." 

With  the  closing  year,  December  25,  comes  the  first 
avowal,  clear  and  firm,  of  "  The  Stern  Purpose " —  to 
put  down  rebellion  by  arms.  But  the  question  was 
speedily  obscured  again.  The  fighting  temper  ebbed  at 
the  North.  With  Mr.  Seward's  conciliatory  speech,  and 
with  the  subsequent  effort  toward  a  peaceful  settlement, 
the  Beiniblican  was  in  warmest  sympathy.  Mr.  Bowles's 
optimistic  temper,  his  strong  reliance  on  the  prevailing 
power  of  reason  and  self-interest,  made  him  skeptical  of 
a  warlike  issue,  and  strenuous  to  avert  it.  The  Eepuh- 
lican  did  not  compromise  its  anti-slavery  principles ;  it 
would  by  no  means  concede  the  Crittenden  plan,  or  any- 
thing beyond  the  Adams  proposition.  But  it  criticised 
the  readiness  of  Governor  Andrew  and  the  legislature  to 
prepare  for  war,  as  overzealous  and  injurious.  The  state 
was  forward  and  prompt  to  meet  the  worst  that  might 
come.  The  legislature,  in  January,  by  a  unanimous  vote, 
called  on  the  President  to  enforce  the  laws  and  maintain 
the  Union,  and  offered  him  whatever  support  of  men 
and  money  he  might  need  from  Massachusetts.  The 
Bepuhlican  deprecated  such  measures,  as  showing  a  dis- 
position to  meet  the  South  half-way  on  the  war-path. 

Men  far  less  sanguine  than  Mr.  Bowles  were  slow  to 
believe  that  the  issue  could  come  to  actual  war.  Even 
Lincoln  said  on  his  journey  to  Washington :  "  This  crisis 
is  all  artificial.  It  has  no  foundation  in  fact.  It  was 
not  '  argued  up,'  as  the  saying  is,  and  cannot  be  argued 
down.     Let  it  alone  and  it  will  go  down  itself  ! " 

In  the  mind  of  the  North,  two  sentiments  were  strong, 
—  that  the  government  must  not  give  up  its  own  to  the 
seceders,  must  not  surrender  its  forts  or  renounce  the 
collection  of  customs  duties;  but  that  it  was  impracti- 


284     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

cable  to  compel  by  arms  the  submission  and  return  of 
the  seceded  states.  The  practical  contradiction  resulting 
from  these  two  propositions  was  not  for  a  good  while 
appreciated  by  the  North.  In  reality  it  was  out  of  the 
question  for  a  people  claiming  independence — like  South 
Carolina  or  the  Southern  Confederacy — to  allow  a  foreign 
power  to  collect  duties  on  its  imports, —  by  war-ships 
outside  of  its  harbors  for  example,  as  was  sometimes 
gravely  proposed.  Any  such  attempt  meant  certain 
war,  and  in  case  of  war  defeat  to  the  seceders  must 
mean  their  subjection  to  the  national  authority.  But 
this,  so  plain  in  the  light  of  events,  was  not  so  plainly 
seen  beforehand ;  and  men  went  on  saying  that  the  gov- 
ernment must  not  give  up  Fort  Sumter,  but  must  not 
invade  the  seceded  states. 

There  was  another  very  grave  uncertainty.  It  seemed 
more  than  doubtful  whether  the  Northern  people  had 
any  strong  and  passionate  sentiment  of  love  for  the 
Union,  such  as  would  inspire  them  to  fight  for  its  main- 
tenance. There  had  grown  up  in  truth  a  great  alienation 
between  the  two  sections  of  the  country.  Many  anti- 
slavery  men  besides  the  Abolitionists  thought  the  na- 
tional partnership  with  slave-owners,  if  broken  by  the 
act  of  the  latter,  was  by  no  means  worth  restoring. 
The  sentiment  of  common  country,  the  pride  in  a  great 
national  destiny,  had  been  dimmed  by  the  hot  struggle  of 
recent  years.  Said  the  Republican,  November  22,  ''  The 
fact  is  not  to  be  disguised  that  the  feeling  at  the  North  in 
respect  to  the  Union  has  considerably  changed  within  a 
score  of  years."  Certainly,  it  says,  the  North  does  not 
care  enough  for  the  Union  —  however  orators  may  glorify 
the  name  —  to  made  any  further  compromises  to  save  it. 
The  South  has  destroyed  all  liberty  within  its  borders, 
and  denies  to  Northern  men  upon  its  soil  the  rights  which 
the  country  would  exact  in  the  case  of  a  foreign  power. 


SECESSION.  285 

As  late  as  March  23,  the  paper  declared,  in  a  gloomier 
mood  than  usual,  but  with  a  misgiving  from  which  few 
then  were  wholly  free,  that  loyalty,  as  an  enthusiastic 
sentiment,  does  not  exist  among  Americans. 

In  the  fii'st  month  of  Lincoln's  administration — while 
as  yet  no  blow  had  been  struck  ;  while  commissioners  of 
the  Confederacy  were  at  Washington  trying  to  negotiate 
for  a  peaceful  separation  ;  while  the  Virginia  convention 
still  debated  whether  the  state  should  secede — one  great 
fact  was  becoming  clear  to  the  North.  It  was  expressed 
in  a  sentence  of  the  President's  inaugural :  ''  The  central 
idea  of  secession  is  the  essence  of  anarchy."  It  was  not — 
so  the  North  slowly  perceived — a  question  merely  whether 
several  states  were  to  part  company  with  the  rest.  It 
was  a  question  whether  the  bond  of  all  national  govern- 
ment was  to  be  dissolved  ;  whether  a  principle  was  to  be 
admitted  which  in  its  ultimate  application  would  reduce 
the  country  to  a  chaos  of  discordant  states.  The  fact 
of  a  common  nationality,  on  whose  preservation  depended 
ultimately  the  peace  of  society,  the  happiness  of  every 
household,  the  hopes  of  future  generations,  was  asserting 
itself  in  the  hearts  of  the  common  people. 

The  character  of  the  seceders'  act  had  been  obscured 
by  that  feature  in  our  system  which  places  very  many 
of  the  functions  of  civil  government  in  the  state,  and 
only  a  few  in  the  Federal  Union.  In  a  centralized  na- 
tion, a  revolt  against  governmental  authority  brings  the 
insurgents  into  immediate  collision  with  the  civil  author- 
ity, at  every  point  where  law  touches  the  citizen.  The 
revolt  of  the  Gulf  states  from  the  Union  had  not  dis- 
turbed the  relations  of  their  citizens  to  that  frame-work 
of  local  law  which  covers  most  of  the  questions  and 
interests  of  civil  life.  Business  contracts,  police,  the 
state  courts,  the  ordinary  functions  of  government,  went 
on  as  before.     The  scanty  machinery  of  Federal  admin- 


286     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

istration,  in  its  local  forms,  had  dissolved  by  the  consent 
of  the  people ;  Federal  judges  and  marshals  had  resigned ; 
the  post-offices  had  been  easily  transferred  to  the  new 
authorities.  From  their  share  in  the  government  at 
Washington  the  senators  and  representatives  had  with- 
drawn. But  at  one  point  the  relation  was  not  effectu- 
ally severed ;  the  supreme  right  of  government,  the  right 
of  taxation, —  exercised  then  by  the  Federal  government 
only  through  the  customs  duties, —  remained  fully  as- 
serted by  the  North  in  theory,  and  practically  expressed 
by  the  two  or  three  forts  over  which  the  stars  and  stripes 
still  waved.  This  brought  the  whole  matter  to  an  imme- 
diate practical  test.  To  withdraw  from  the  forts  would 
be  a  virtual  renunciation  by  the  government  of  the  one 
remaining  function  which  testified  to  a  vital,  organic, 
indissoluble  relation  between  itself  as  an  authority  sov- 
ereign within  its  sphere,  and  the  seceders  as  rightfully  its 
subjects,  within  that  sphere. 

This  was  the  logic  of  the  situation.  The  concrete  fact 
was,  a  beleaguered  fort,  garrisoned  by  a  company  of 
United  States  soldiers,  with  rapidly  diminishing  sup- 
plies, menaced  on  all  sides  by  the  batteries  of  a  people 
exultant  in  their  new  independence,  and  eager  to  be  free 
from  the  last  symbol  of  the  authority  they  had  cast  off. 
On  that  fort  and  its  flag  the  eyes  of  both  sections  were 
fastened ;  and  as  men  watched,  the  tide  of  feeling  rose 
higher  and  higher.  Unrelieved,  it  must  speedily  fall. 
Would  the  Administration  reenforce  it  or  withdraw 
from  it  ?  To  hold  it,  said  the  military  counselors,  would 
require  twenty  thousand  men.  It  is  worthless  to  us, 
said  Seward  and  others  of  the  cabinet,  and  by  holding 
it  we  risk  a  collision  which  destroys  the  last  hope  of  a 
peaceful  victory.  Once  the  report  went  over  the  coun- 
try from  Washington  that  the  garrison  was  to  be  with- 
drawn.    Such  retreat  was  bitter  for  patriots,  even  for 


SECESSION.  287 

those  who  sought  peace,  '^  The  moral  effect  of  the  aban- 
donment of  Fort  Sumter,"  said  the  Repiihlican,  March 
12,  "  will  unquestionably  be  a  degree  of  disappointment 
and  chagrin  among  loyal  citizens  of  the  North."  Yet,  it 
adds,  if  it  will  deprive  secession  of  its  last  opportunity, 
it  is  a  good  move.  Lincoln,  as  it  now  appears,  was  hop- 
ing to  gain  a  substantial  advantage  by  a  small  sacrifice, — 
to  keep  Virginia  in  the  Union,  by  giving  up  Sumter.  He 
told  a  representative  of  the  Virginia  convention  (so  says 
Henry  Wilson)  that  if  that  body  would  immediately 
adjourn,  he  would  order  Sumter  to  be  evacuated.  The 
reply  was  that  both  Sumter  and  Pickens  must  be  evacu- 
ated at  once,  and  assurance  given  that  no  attempt  would 
be  made  to  collect  revenue  in  Southern  ports.  This  was 
more  than  Lincoln  could  grant.  At  last,  a  relieving 
squadron  was  secretly  ordered  to  sail  from  New  York 
for  Sumter.  The  government,  keeping  its  promise  to 
the  Confederate  commissioners,  that  if  Sumter  were  not 
first  attacked,  no  relief  should  be  sent  it  without  notice 
being  given,  sent  private  word  to  the  Charleston  authori- 
ties that  supplies  were  to  be  introduced  into  the  fort, — 
peaceably  if  possible,  otherwise  by  force.  Throughout 
the  country,  meanwhile,  the  hopes  of  peace  which  had 
followed  Lincoln's  inaugural  and  Seward's  pacific 
counsels  had  been  obscured  by  swiftly  gathering  clouds. 
We  read,  April  6,  that  a  warlike  aspect  has  suddenly 
come  over  the  whole  face  of  affairs ;  that  the  Seces- 
sionists are  getting  ready  to  strike,  and  the  Adminis- 
tration is  on  its  guard.  The  tension  of  suspense  was 
nearing  the  point  where  something  must  break.  It 
paralyzed  business, — so  said  the  Republican,  April  11. 
With  food  abundant,  with  money  plenty,  there  yet  was 
universal  stagnation.  Men  felt  thunder  in  the  air,  and 
waited  for  the  storm.  "  The  time  is  come  when  the 
North  is  entirely  ready  to  see  the  issue  decided  as  regards 


288     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BO^\T^ES. 

Fort  Sumter.  If  the  Confederate  conspirators  refuse  to 
let  food  be  conveyed  to  a  starving  garrison  of  American 
soldiers^  the  friends  of  the  Union  everywhere  are  ready 
to  know  the  reason  why,  and  it  will  be  a  joy  to  the 
country  to  have  that  question  settled."  Between  Charles- 
ton and  Montgomery,  the  Confederate  capital,  secret  tele- 
grams were  flying.  Doubtless,  the  Secessionists  counted 
on  the  effect  of  a  conflict  of  arms  in  sweeping  the  waver- 
ing border  states  into  union  with  the  South.  The  effect 
in  uniting  the  North  they  did  not  foresee, —  they  be- 
lieved the  North  to  be  divided,  half-hearted,  and  without 
spirit  to  fight.  The  decisive  order  was  given  by  Presi- 
dent Davis ;  the  fort  received  a  summons  to  surrender, 
and  Major  Anderson  refused ;  then  from  the  surrounding- 
forts  a  circle  of  flre  opened  upon  it.  For  two  days,  April 
12  and  13,  the  people  North  and  South  listened  breath- 
lessly to  the  pealing  of  the  guns.  Then  the  overmatched 
garrison  jdelded;  Major  Anderson  agreed  to  evacuate 
the  fort,  and  its  flag  went  down.  One  great  passion  of 
grief,  resentment,  and  purpose  united  the  North  as  one 
man.  Hesitations,  doubts,  theories,  vanished.  Party 
lines  were  forgotten.  There  was  but  one  thought,  one 
feeling  —  to  make  the  flag  supreme  again  over  the  whole 
land.  The  President  called  for  seventy-flve  thousand 
volunteers,  and  the  loyal  states  rushed  to  arms.  Virginia, 
North  Carolina,  Tennessee,  Arkansas,  and  Texas  joined 
the  Southern  Confederacy.  Pennsylvania  troops  were 
thrown  instantly  into  Washington  to  defend  it,  and  close 
after  them  came  the  Massachusetts  Sixth  Regiment.  The 
country  was  wrapped  in  a  whirlwind  of  war. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

Letters:  1857-1860. 

TO  turn  from  the  story  of  a  nation's  crisis  to  details 
of  personal  life  gives  at  first  an  impression  of 
abrupt  descent.  It  is  like  coming  from  the  distant  view 
of  a  city  in  which  its  far-away  grandeur  charms  the  eye 
and  fires  the  imagination,  into  immediate  contact  with 
its  scenes  of  prosaic  reality.  But  the  deeper  look  sees 
under  these  homely  aspects  the  great  drama  of  humanity. 
The  pictured  tapestry  of  a  people's  fortunes  has  for  its 
warp  and  woof  the  thread  of  every-day  lives  —  their  toils, 
pleasures,  discomforts,  losses,  successes.  Of  the  letters 
in  this  and  other  chapters,  not  a  few  are  given  for  their 
incidental  revelations  of  traits  in  the  writer.  Often  the 
thought  may  not  be  weighty,  the  judgment,  perhaps,  not 
correct,  but  if  the  reader  is  helped  to  see  the  man  as  he 
really  was,  something  is  gained. 

To  Charles  Allen. 

January  11,  1857. 

With  what  meat  are  you  consoling  yourself  in  L 's  absence, 

and  the  want  of  my  delightfiil  chirography  for  the  last  ten 
days  ?  I  have  been  to  New  York  and  Boston,  have  gone  to  a 
ball,  andhave  sat  up  till  fouro'clock  printing  Governor  Gardner's 
message,  besides  experiencing  several  other  unusual  sensations, 
Vol.  I. — 19  asg 


290     THE   LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

since  I  last  wrote  you.  I  had  a  delightful  breakfast  with  Dana 
at  Dehnonico's  in  New  York,  during  which  we  settled  the  Phila- 
delphia matter.  He  took  it  in  hand,  and  told  them  that  I  would 
go  on  and  see  them  if  they  would  agree  to  raise  a  $50,000  cash 
capital,  to  which  I  should  contribute  $5000  —  then  make  the 
nominal  capital  $100,000,  and  give  me  twenty  of  the  new  shares, 
or  one-fourth  of  the  whole  concern,  which  he  calculated  would 
be  worth  the  $100,000  at  the  end  of  the  year,  or  when  the 
$50,000  was  used  up  ; —  and  besides  give  me  supreme  control  and 
$4000  salary.  This  was  rather  more  magnificent  than  I  should 
have  demanded  myself,  but  he  said  they  ought  to  do  it,  if  I  went, 
and  I  told  him  to  go  ahead.  The  reply  I  have  not  heard  — 
probably  it  will  end  the  matter,  at  least  for  the  present.  I 
am  content.  On  such  terms  I  could  hardly  decline  running 
the  small  risk  proposed.  Rather  than  accept  less,  or  much 
less,  I  would  remain  here,  or  go  to  Boston,  or  go  on  the 
Tribune  itself.  I  shall  get  $4000,  perhaps  $5000,  out  of  the 
Republican  this  year,  and  had  best  stay  unless  I  can  make  a 
ten  strike. 

L I  saw  a  few  moments  in  Boston.  She  seemed  in  capi- 
tal si^u'its,  and  promised  to  come  around  this  way  home.  Is  it 
not  about  time  for  you  to  come  down  and  see  us  again  ?  I  feel 
sort  o'  leisurely,  have  got  a  new  anecdote  or  two,  and  the  bliss- 
ful fountains  of  ale  are  overflowing,  while  with  a  lemon  and 
some  hot  water  we  might   save   the   Union   after  the   more 

approved  fashion  of  the  season.    What  say  you  ?     L being 

away,  you  must  be  lonely,  and  disposed  to  do  something 
desperate.  If  my  wife  were  away,  I'd  come  up  and  see  you  —  I 
would. 

January  18,  1857. 
.  .  .  The  Philadelphia  people  have  replied,  coming  nearly 
to  my  standard,  but  I  have  declined  to  abate  a  jot.  I  think 
the  only  real  point  is  my  demand  for  supreme  and  absolute 
control;  there  are  one  or  two  people  who  have  an  interest 
in  the  movement,  who,  though  wiUing  and  desirous  to  have  me 
lead,  are  yet  bent  on  attaching  themselves  to  the  enterprise  and 
going  to  glory  with  it.  This  is  aU  right  if  they  are  worthy,  but 
if  they  prove  drags  I  must  have  the  right  to  slough  them  off. 


LETTEKS:    1857-1860.  291 

I  think  here  is  tlie  sticking-point.    I  am  more  and  more  indif- 
ferent to  going  unless  on  my  owti  terms. 

Monday. — My  eyes,  what  a  storm !  One  of  my  ears  was  nip- 
ped by  the  frost  last  night  going  home  at  eleven,  and  it  bmias 
to-day  hke  a  bad  conscience.  But  that  last  hot  whisky,  at  the 
noon  of  night,  with  Mrs.  Bowles,  was  hke  meat  to  a  strong  man. 
It  only  needed  you  to  make  the  thing  complete.  By  the  way, 
Mrs.  B.  and  I  have  been  indulging  in  the  weakness  of  being 
crayonized  this  last  week  by  Kimberly.  The  result  is  rather  a 
success.     Come  and  see  'em. 

To  H.  L.  Dawes. 

February  16,  1857. 

.  .  .  Our  friends  in  the  legislature  are  getting  somewhat 
exercised,  but  are  not  half  so  frightened  as  I  wish  they  were. 
Gardner  wants  to  make  the  legislature  long  and  unpopular, 
and  east  upon  it  and  us  the  extravagance  of  himself  and  crew, 
and  give  the  hunkers  aid  and  comfort  in  their  combination  for 
"reform."  But  it  won't  work,  unless  our  fellows  are  natural 
fools,  which  they  are  not  quite,  though  I  sometimes  think  near  it. 
If  we  had  a  decent  press  in  Boston,  it  woidd  straighten  the 
trouble  out  directly ;  but  we  must  only  kick  and  cuff  the  legis- 
lature into  appreciating  their  responsibilities,  and  trust  in  Provi- 
dence and  the  people  to  bring  the  matter  out  right  duiing  the 
summer. 

In  national  pohtics,  matters  seem  to  be  di'ifting  stiU,  and  the 
exact  form  of  the  future  no  one  knows.  The  Democratic  party 
cannot  go  unitedly  through  Buchanan's  Administration.  The 
men  that  elected  him  will  never  choose  another  president,  be- 
cause then'  organization  is  worn  out,  effete,  and  cannot  stand 
the  rocks  before  it. 

I  wish  you  would  come  down  here  and  go  to  Boston  with  me. 
I  think  there  wiU  be  a  gathering  of  the  "  saints "  early  in 
March,  perhaps  after  Congress  has  adjourned,  and  then  you 
must  appear  on  parade.  We  shoidd  get  those  amendments  out 
of  the  way  before  we  strike  out  for  the  summer  campaign. 
We  want  two  planks; — non-extension  of  slavery,  and  state 
reform. 


292     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

To  Charles  Allen. 

April  9,  1857. 

.  .  .  I  am  here  for  a  day,  and  return  to-night,  to  launch 
the  Traveller  next  Monday.  My  editorial  staff  is  about  made 
up,  and  is  rich  and  abundant,  though  not  in  all  respects  to  my 
taste.  But  that  wiU  work  out  in  practice.  It  will  number 
in  aU  some  fifteen,  and  be  such  as  no  Boston  journal  ever  yet 
dreamed  of. 

Charley  Hale  [editor  of  the  Advertiser']  has  nothing  to  fear 
from  us,  but  more  from  the  revival  of  the  Courier.  He  ought 
never  to  have  allowed  it,  but  should  have  bought  it  up  when 
he  could,  a  few  weeks  ago.  Now  it  disputes  places  with  him 
boldly.  I  have  not  had  time  to  talk  with  him,  but  shall  seek 
occasion.  We  seek  to  be  the  popular,  progressive  journal ;  his 
place  is  the  conservative,  respectable,  high-toned  ;  and  there  is 
no  better  or  richer  field  than  that  before  him,  if  he  will  only 
properly  cultivate  it,  and  get  the  Courier  out  of  the  way.  We 
shall  combine  with  him,  because  he  is  no  rival  of  ours.  Indeed, 
if  he  feels  properly  his  saddle,  ours  is  the  best  move  for  him 
that  could  be  made. 

To  his  Wife. 

Boston,  Sunday  afternoon,  April  26,  1857. 
Your  first  letter  was  received  yesterday  morning,  and  I 
meant  to  have  replied  by  last  night's  mail,  but  was  too  busy. 
Just  now  I  have  got  your  yesterday's  letter,  and  rejoice  to  see 
evidences  in  it  of  improvement  in  health  and  mental  resigna- 
tion. The  only  thing  we  can  well  say  now  about  our  new 
enterprise  and  separation  is  that  it  is  undertaken,  that  it  is  not 
as  hard  as  it  might  be,  that  it  may  work  for  good,  that  it  must 
result  in  good  if  we  only  insist  on  turning  aU  there  is  in  it  to 
good  account.  With  a  weekly  meeting,  and  the  promise  of 
permanent  reunion  in  a  few  short  months,  I  think  —  with 
plenty  for  mind  and  heart  to  do  —  we  can  endnre  tiU  the  good 
time  coming.  Separation  even  has  its  uses.  We  enjoy  one 
another  the  more  when  we  meet,  we  learn  to  disciphne  om-- 
selves,  to  depend  upon  ourselves,  to  develop  the  inward  powers ; 
we  concentrate  happiness,  and  learn  the  better  to  appreciate  it. 


letters:    1857-1860.  293 

So  let  us  neitlier  repine  nor  quarrel  with  fate,  but  out  of  seem- 
ing evil  educe  good.  That  is  the  true  philosophy  of  Ufe,  and 
without  philosophy  there  is  vastly  httle  of  life  but  a  passion 
and  a  struggle. 

I  have  got  down  into  my  new  room,  and  am  slowly  getting 
out  of  chaos.  But  it  must  be  a  long  while  before  affairs  get 
settled  and  everything  works  easy.  I  feel,  however,  that  I 
have  passed  the  two  hardest  weeks,  and  I  no  longer  feel  any 
serious  question  as  to  my  abihty,  in  health  or  otherwise,  to 
master  my  position,  in  all  good  time.  I  have  had  a  little  cold  for 
several  days,  and  that  and  the  tire  in  me  gives  me  some  head- 
ache to-day,  but  both  are  trifles,  and  only  inspire  caution.  I 
expect  an  easier  week  this,  and  feel  now  pretty  certain  that 
I  shall  be  able  to  go  up  to  Spiiugfield  next  Saturday. 

.  .  .  I  did  not  get  up  this  morning  in  season  to  go  to 
church,  though  I  had  intended  to.  So  I  have  spent  the  morn- 
ing in  reading  and  walking  on  the  Common,  which  begins  to 
be  very  pleasant  already.  Colonel  Lincoln  has  sent  for  me  to 
dine  with  him  at  five,  and  at  seven  I  must  come  back  to  the 
ofS.ce  and  work.  My  new  night  editor  commences  this  week, 
and  as  soon  as  he  gets  broken  in  I  shall  be  reheved  of  late  work. 
Things  move  along  veiy  well  on  the  whole  ;  of  course  there  are 
annoyances  and  rough  places,  but  they  wiU  be  overcome  all  in 
due  time  ;  and  though  I  often  think  I  was  a  fool  for  leaving 
old  Spi-ingfield,  stiU  the  undertaking  has  been  begun,  and  I 
cannot  and  shall  not  turn  back  until  it  is  thoroughly  tried  out. 
Thank  f oi*tune,  I  can  afford  to  fail,  but  I  don't  mean  to. 

To  Charles  Allen. 

Boston,  May  14, 1857. 
I  make  slow  progress  in  commanding  order,  but  the  world 
moves.  I  am  not  at  aU  satisfied  with  the  paper,  yet  I  can  see 
it  is  an  improvement  upon  what  went  before.  I  am  trammeled 
by  old  engagements,  and  seek  in  vain  for  such  men  as  I  want 
to  gather  around  me.  But  I  have  courage  and  hope,  generally. 
Our  daily  circulation  is  21,000,  about  neck  and  neck  with  the 
Journal,  and  no  more ;  weekly,  16,000 }  semi- weekly,  4000  to 


294     THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

5000 ;  all  fair  and  promising,  but  not  supreme  enough  to  in- 
dulge in  a  general  bray.  I  am,  of  course,  busy,  yet  can  get 
off  for  the  theater,  or  a  long  dinner  with  a  friend ;  and  I  should 
like  above  anything  to  see  your  face  in  these  parts.     I  do  wish 

your  mother  or  L would  go  down  and  spend  a  week  with 

my  wife. 

He  writes  to  Charles  Allen,  June  2,  to  meet  him  in 
Boston  or  Springfield,  in  regard  to  possible  difficnlties : 

"As  I  think  it  a  duty  to  be  prepared  for  emergencies  and 
accidents,  I  desire  to  talk  with  one  who  is  both  a  lawyer  and 
a  friend." 

June  9,  he  writes  : 

"  The  matter  of  which  I  spoke  to  you  is  not  so  pressing  as  to 
justify  a  journey.  Indeed  there  is  nothing  specially  new ; 
nothing  which  I  need  not  have  expected,  but  yet  as  the  course 
is  long  on  which  I  have  entered,  and  the  result  is  doubtful,  I 
have  thought  I  should,  like  a  good  general,  '  protect  my  rear,' 
and  how  to  do  it  is  that  which  I  desu-e  to  talk  with  you  about. 
I  shall  not  increase  my  interest  here  until  everything  is  in  my 
own  way,  or  the  result  is  absolutely  certain.  I  can  afford  to 
lose  what  I  have  put  in,  but  I  do  not  want  to  endanger  what  I 
have  in  Springfield." 

The  next  two  months  brought  the  internal  difficnlties 
of  the  TraveUer  to  a  crisis.  The  letters  are  full  of  the 
perplexing  and  worrying  details  of  negotiations  for  a 
dissolution  of  the  partnership.  The  matter  drags  to  an 
end  in  September.     He  writes  to  his  wife : 

"  There  is  nothing  in  my  business  troubles  to  give  you  any 
serious  annoyance.  They  are  mortifying  and  disagreeable  to 
me,  and  I  shall  run  the  risk  of  losing  a  few  thousand  doUars  — 
beyond  which,  nothing.  .  .  .  The  loss  of  the  money  is  the 
smallest  of  the  sources  of  regret  to  me, —  even  if  I  do  lose  it, — 
for  I  have  no  fears  that  I  cannot  easily  replace  it  in  good  time. 
.    .    .     If  I  do  not  lose  too  much  money,  I  do  not  intend  to 


LETTEKS:    1857-1860.  295 

go  to  work  anywhere  for  a  year,  but  to  play  for  that  time,  if  I 
ca,h  afford  to,  and  it  is  not  too  hard  work." 

A  little  later  he  writes  to  Charles  Allen  : 

'*  As  to  going  West,  I  must  wait  a  few  days  at  least.  I  dare 
not  start  on  a  long  journey  in  my  present  health.  I  am  ten*ibly 
used  up." 

A  letter  of  October  29  marks  the  return  to  the  old 
work. 

'*  Holland  is  ready  with  an  offer  to  vacate  and  go  into  a  hter- 
ary  and  lecturing  hfe.  He  really  wants  to  resign  his  place,  he 
chafes  imder  the  drudgery  and  responsibility.  I  hold  thq 
matter  under  advisement,  yet  I  think  it  is  destined  to  result  in 
my  taking  hold  at  once.  I  would  rather  be '  fancy-free '  for  a 
few  months  or  a  year  longer ;  but  how  can  a  man  in  these 
times  ?  " 

To  H.  L.  Daives. 

February,  1858. 

You  are  an  apt  scholar.  The  stunning  accounts  of  your 
speech  come  to  us  by  every  wave  of  the  electric  cun-ent.  [It 
was  Mr.  Dawes's  first  speech  in  CongTCss,  in  favor  of  a  conces- 
sion of  time  to  an  unwilling  witness  before  a  House  committee.] 
And  to-day  Hanscomb  sends  a  letter  "  all  about  it,"  setting  it 
out  with  the  accompanjdng  ''  sound  of  hew-gag."  I  wish  you 
had  made  youi-  fii'st  speech  for  something  else  than  in  behalf 
of  a  man  who  wants  to  escape  teUing  the  truth ;  but  I  con- 
gratulate yon  that  the  agony  is  over,  and  that  the  haU  has 
kindly  echoed  the  sound  of  your  voice.  Go  on  and  conquer. 
You  cannot  win  a  victory  that  I  shall  not  glory  in,  no  more 
than  suffer  a  defeat,  or  experience  a  son-ow,  that  I  shall  not 
take  unto  myself. 

To  Charles  Allen. 

[1858.] 

I  take  it  you  have  a  fresh  disgust  with  politics.  So  have 
I.  Banks  has,  on  the  whole,  made  a  failure  in  his  appoint- 
ments for  the  new  coui-t ;  that  is,  a  considerable  portion  of  his 


296     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

judges  liave  yet  to  vindicate  the  "wisdom  of  their  selection. 
He  has  made  down  here,  too,  some  bad  justice  selections,  if  I 
may  beheve  what  the  people  say.  However,  the  great  world 
lays  no  stress  on  the  disappointment  of  individuals.  So  long 
as  their  offices  are  decently  flUed,  they  are  weU  enough  satis- 
fied. ...  I  have  the  gratifying  satisfaction  of  knowing 
that  all  the  men  I  went  for  are  defeated.  Now,  I  hope  nobody 
will  ever  ask  my  aid  again ;  it  is  the  meanest  business  I  do, 
asking  for  offices  for  people,  and  if  I  didn't  love  my  friends  I 
never  would  do  it.  Now  that  they  see  I  damage  them,  I  guess 
they  had  better  leave  me  to  enjoy  the  independence  of  asking 
no  favor  of  anybody,  and  grumbling  at  everybody. 

The  trout  came,  cold  and  fresh.  I  shared  'em  with  Deacon 
Stearns  —  poor  man  —  and  we  were  both  fiUed  with  gratitude. 
We  are  in  an  awful  phght  at  the  house,  just  now  in  the  thick 
of  it,  and  I  have  to  eat  at  the  cellars  around  town  and  wait 
upon  Irishmen,  carpenters,  masons,  painters,  et  id  omne  genus. 

April  8,  1859. 
I  had  the  present  of  a  bottle  of  wine  this  week,  from  a  woman, 
with  an  affectionate  note.  We  had  some  good  food  Fast-day, 
and  we  drank  the  wine.  We  thought  of  you,  lamented  your 
absence,  and  concluded  to  send  you  the  label  on  the  bottle  — 
much  good  may  it  do  you.     Otherwise,  Fast-day  was  rather 

stupid.     caine  around  before  I  was  up,  and  was  willing  to 

talk  about  being  judge,  which  I  have  no  doubt  he  will  be  if 

is  not  reappointed.     It  will  be  so  invidious  and  difficult 

making  distinctions  that  I  have  thought  and  still  think  that  the 
whole  common  pleas  bench  will  go  by  the  board.  I  should 
chiefly  regret  Aiken  of  this  lot.  I  have  imbibed  a  good  deal  of 
respect  for  that  man.  Ben.  Butler  says  he  is  an  exaggeration 
of  the  stage  Yankee  ;  but  he  is  fresh  and  hearty,  and  keen  and 
human,  and  says  civil  things  about  me  —  and  of  course  I  like 
him.  It  seems  to  be  a  weakness  of  human  nature  to  Uke  those 
people  who  hke  us  and  praise  us.  But  about  the  judges.  .  .  . 
I  am  prepared  for  some  good  and  some  bad  appointments 
—  I  don't  think  Banks's  forte  lies  in  flUing  offices  well.  But 
it  seems  to  me expresses  himself  as  to  him  with  uncommon 


letters:    1857-1860.  297 

and  needless  severity ;  especially  as  we  Unitarians  don't  believe 
in  a  heU.  I  have  no  reason  to  believe  he  has  shown  any  bad 
faith  towards  Chapman, —  nothing  worse  than  lack  of  apprecia- 
tion ;  and  that  ought  not  to  be  held  in  this  eiiiug  world  a 
deadly  offense.  I  think  it  is  generally  conceded  here,  and  even 
by  Chapman's  friends,  that  Hoar  is  the  best  appointment.  My 
knowledge  is  limited,  yet  I  am  incHned  to  agree.  Hoar  has 
genius,  insight,  an  edge  to  his  mind,  that  I  never  discovered 
in  Chapman.  ...  I  meant  to  say  about  the  judges  that 
I  am  determined  not  to  write  to  Banks  for  or  against  any 
one.  He  has  never  seemed  to  place  any  value  on  my  views 
as  to  appointments,  heretofore,  and  he  won't  have  them 
hereafter,  without  seeking  them.  Probably  he  will  be  able 
to  do  without  them. 

April,  1859. 

.  .  .  My  cold  is  only  better,  not  cured.  I  have  a  heavy 
back  yet,  but  am  mending,  unless  this  night  '*on" — I  don't 
expect  to  be  through  till  four  or  five  —  gives  me  a  set  back. 
It  was  well  perhaps  I  cotdd  not  go  up  to  Greenfield,  for  we  had 
a  Saturday  night  call  which  ended  in  a  Sunday  visit  from  a 
young  man  in  WiUiams  College,  who  writes  poetry  and  stories 
for  the  Republican,  and  is  going  to  be  a  minister ;  and  seems  to 
have  come  on  purpose  ahnost  to  get  some  Christian,  fatherly 
advice,  which  I  gave  him. 

I  have  taken  violently  and  resolutely  to  horseback  riding ; 
went  yesterday,  and  again  this  (Tuesday)  morning,  and  mean 
to  foUow  it  up  tUl  it  kiUs  or  cures.  On  the  whole,  I  am 
liking  it. 

It  is  a  long  way  ahead  to  Saturday.  I  wish  you  would  think 
you  could  come  down  here  —  there  is  really  no  reason  why  you 
shouldn't.  But  if  you  insist  on  holding  me  to  my  promise,  I 
shall  go  up,  I  think,  unless  something  now  unforeseen  happens 
to  forbid.  Of  course  ]\Irs.  Bowles  is  always  ready  to  say  go ; 
you  know  she  would  give  up  any  gratification,  or  endure  any 
suffering,  to  give  me  a  pleasure,  or  get  me  out  of  the  way  of  a 
half-day  of  work.  But  that  doesn't  make  it  always  right  that 
I  should  take  her  at  her  word  —  by  no  means. 


298     THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

To  H.  L.  Dawes. 

AprU  20,  1859. 

I  consider  it  more  the  duty  of  the  members  of  Congress  from 
Massachusetts  to  secure  the  defeat  of  the  two  years'  amendment 
[to  the  state  constitution,  requiring  that  citizens  of  foreign 
birth  should  after  their  naturahzation  wait  two  years  longer 
before  being  allowed  to  vote]  than  any  other  set  of  men.  The 
standing  of  the  state  in  national  politics  is  in  their  hands  ;  and 
they  have  to  meet  their  brethren  from  other  states  at  Washing- 
ton, and  answer  for  the  conduct  of  their  constituents.  I  can 
have  no  doubt  that  you  agree  with  me  in  this,  as  in  the  convic- 
tion that  that  amendment  should  be  rejected.  And  I  presume 
you  are  doing  all  you  can,  both  pubhcly  and  privately,  to  con- 
vince the  people  of  Berkshire  that  they  should  vote  against  it 
at  the  election  on  the  ninth  of  May,  Why,  then,  do  I  write  ? 
Simply  because  I  am  asked  to  do  so — to  stir  up  your  pure 
mind  to  labor,  to  faith,  and  to  work. 

And  I  am  yours  truly,  at  three  o'clock  iu  the  morning. 

To  Charles  Allen. 

July,  1859. 

Our  ride  to  Northampton  was  rather  savage  from  the  heat, 
especially  the  last  half  of  it,  but  the  horse  had  the  worst  of  it. 
He  was  in  trim  at  six,  however,  for  a  night  ride  to  Springfield. 
On  the  whole,  we  had  a  delightful  excursion  of  it,  and  Mrs. 
Bowles  enjoyed  it  greatly.  Our  friends  were  all  exceedingly 
civil  to  us,  and  then  the  country  was  fine,  and  most  of  it  new 
to  both  of  us.  Of  course  I  had  to  Tindergo  a  blistering  at 
Northampton  for  touching  with  profane  hands  the  local  gods, 
combined  in  this  case  with  the  immaculate  gentlemen  of  the 
bar ;  and  even  Mr.  Delano  himself,  whom  I  met  at  the  Mansion 
House,  gave  me  the  satisfaction  of  showing  he  was  wounded, 
though  putting  me  to  the  awkwardness  of  defending  myself  by 
word  of  mouth.  I  am  not  good  at  talking — but  in  the  long  run 
even  the  lawyers  don't  get  the  advantage  of  us.  When  I  have 
done  anything  mean,  I  generally  find  it  out  as  soon  as  any- 
body— but  I  don't  discover  it  in  this  case  of  the  Hampshire 
bar  and  the  new  court. 


letters:    1857-1860.  299 

I  am  aching  to  pitch  into  Choate,  and  shall  do  it  yet,  un- 
gracious as  Boston  will  think  it.  I  don't  believe  he  was  a 
bright  and  shining  Ught  to  the  profession  in  at  least  one  very 
important  particular.  And  I  hate  the  '^  Nil  de  mortuis,^''  &c. 
What  do  men  die  for,  except  that  posterity  may  impartially 
judge,  and  get  the  full  benefit  of  their  example  ? 

November,  1859. 

I  go  to  New  York  Friday  or  Saturday  for  a  few  days,  partly 
for  a  little  recreation,  partly  on  business  and  to  see  some 
fi-iends,  and  partly  to  see  that  I  am  not  put  in  a  false  and  dis- 
agi-eeable  position  as  to  the  printership  of  the  House.  I  hear 
nothing  particular  about  the  affair  lately,  and  shall  be  quite 
content  to  learn  that  Weed  &  Co.  have  abandoned  their  idea. 
In  the  first  place,  for  them  to  try  me  and  fail  would  be  unpleas- 
ant ;  and  I  am  not  so  sure  that  the  appointment  would  be  a 
good  thing  for  me.  I  am  content,  however,  in  all  these  things 
to  let  affairs  take  their  course.  I  should  like  some  money.  I 
should  Hke  to  enlarge  my  position  and  power  in  the  next  cam- 
paign.    But  I  can  be  content  with  what  I  have  of  both. 

I  am  very  busy  indeed.  I  never  get  through,  nowadays. 
Something  of  every  day's  work  goes  over,  and  I  have  submitted 
to  this  as  a  sort  of  law  of  my  life.  My  correspondence  is  sadly 
neglected,  and  I  cannot  pretend  to  follow  my  friendly  exchanges 
with  regularity  or  fidelity.  Yet  it  seems  to  me  that  I  accom- 
plish much  less  than  I  used  to  ;  but  the  range  of  work  widens, 
and  the  care  of  the  paper  gi'ows  greater  and  gi-eater.  And  yet 
I  like  it  first-rate.  I  only  wish  it  paid  better,  so  that  I  could  have 
better  assistance,  and  have  more  steady  rehance  on  my  men. 

Your  early  rising  is  a  gi"eat  achievement,  but  good  if  you  wiU 
go  to  bed  in  proportionate  season.  You  can't  burn  the  candle 
at  both  ends,  and  make  anything  by  it  in  the  long  run  ;  and  it 
is  the  long  jduII  that  you  are  to  rely  on,  and  whereby  you  are  to 
gain  glory. — A  tender  turkey  and  fixin's  to  you  all  at  the 
"  Hotel  de  Allen." 

[November  or  December,  1859.] 
.     .     .    I  have  much  to  do  this  fall,  and  must  ask  my  friends 
to  come  and  see  me  rather  than  exact  my  presence.   The  print- 


300     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

ing  business  I  shall  leave  to  the  men  who  suggested  it,  Weed, 
Greeley,  and  Dana ;  I  shall  neither  expect  nor  seek  it ;  and  I 
question  even  if,  on  such  conditions  as  will  accompany  it,  it  is 
wox-th  my  ha\ang.  It  will  lead  me  out  of  my  independent 
position,  and  with  my  disposition  and  the  demands  of  those 
who  wiU  elect  me,  if  I  should  be  elected,  I  suspect  the  bulk  of 
the  profits  will  be  contributed  to  the  party  funds  for  the  presi- 
dential election.  I  did  intend  to  go  to  Washington  at  the 
opening  of  Congress,  The  suggestion  of  me  for  pi-inter  will 
keep  me  at  home  —  I  will  have  no  hand  in  the  dirty  work  of 
election.     [This  came  to  nothing.] 

Om-  differences  in  politics,  etc.,  do  not  oppress  me.  I  trust 
our  fi'iendship  can  stand  them  all ;  and  indeed  I  am  inclined 
to  beheve  that  it  is  somewhat  through  our  differences  that  we 
like  each  other.  It  would  be  stupid  to  always  agree.  Yet  I 
would  not  that  we  should  diift  too  far  from  one  another — we 
must  preserve  sufficient  points  of  sympathy  for  contact,  and  I 
have  sometimes  thought  that,  in  my  disposition  to  respect  your 
independence,  and  leave  you  to  work  out  your  own  views  of 
men  whom  I  respect  and  am  disposed  to  follow,  I  was  not  doing 
quite  the  fair  thing  either  by  them,  you,  or  myself  ;  especially 
as  other  men  who  know  them  less,  or  no  better,  and  who  have 
no  better  right  to  influence  you,  are  yet  apparently  doing  so 
against  them.     For  instance,  I  think  my  opinion  of  Banks  is 

quite  as  hkely  to  be  connect  as  your  Mr. 's.     I  know  him  as 

well  as  ever  he  did,  and  that  in  his  riper  years  and  character  ; 

I  think  my  capacity  for  judgment  is  quite  as  great  as 's, 

and  I  should  be  sorry  if  I  had  so  narrow  and  prejudiced  a  soul 
as  he;  and  yet  you  rather  take  his  estimate  of  Banks  than 
mine, —  and  simply  I  suppose  because  I  have  taken  no  pains  to 
instill  mine  into  you,  while  he  has  his.     Isn't  it  so  ? 

Horace  Mann  had  qualities  which  by  themselves  deserve  a 
statue,  by  way  of  commemoration  and  example.  Whether  as 
a  whole  he  deserves  a  statue  in  the  State-house  yard  next  to 
Webster,  I  am  not  so  clear.  I  think  his  labors  for  the  schools 
would  entitle  him  to  it,  if  anything.  He  was  not  a  statesman, 
but  a  reformer  and  a  teacher.  He  was  not  lovable,  like  Choate, 
but  he  had  sterner  and  more  enduring  stuff,  and  has  left  his 


letters:    1857-1860.  301 

mark  for  a  longer  period.  The  bad  thing  about  the  Mann  statue 
business  is  that  it  has  a  chief  impulse  iu  the  fact  that  he  quai*- 
reled  with  Webster,  and  Webster  is  on  the  other  side.  But  as 
the  money  is  not  subscribed,  nor  the  artist  engaged  to  make 
the  statue,  we  may  trust  that  feeling  to  wear  out.  The  move- 
ment wUl  not  go  on  long,  or  to  success,  upon  such  capital  as 
that.     Let  us  have  patience,  and  look  all  around  a  question. 

Brown  was  insane  on  this  point  of  his  mission.  He  was 
courageous,  conscientious,  a  real  old  Puritan,  but  a  pure  mono- 
maniac, hke  George  Lunt ;  and  I  am  inchned  to  think  you  as  a 
lawyer  could  wish  for  no  better  case  than  to  defend  either  of 
them  for  a  murder  committed  in  the  line  of  their  mania.  The 
Harper's  Ferry  affair  will  appear  to  kill  Seward  —  but  he  was 
dead  before.  He  has  no  chance,  and  his  apparent  strength  has 
for  some  time  lain  gi-eatly  in  the  fact  that  other  men  were  not 
ready  to  be  brought  forward,  and  that  everybody  wants  to 
please  him  and  his  friends,  and  have  then*  reversionary  sup- 
port when  he  breaks  down.  Banks  stands  the  best  chance 
to-day.  There  are  many  obstacles  to  his  nomination,  which, 
if  powerfully  combined,  may  prevent  it ;  but  I  think  that  he 
will  succeed  both  at  the  convention  and  before  the  people. 
None  of  our  pohticians  more  thoroughly  appreciate  "  the 
epoch  "  than  he,  and  no  man  in  the  country  will  make  a  more 
powerful  and  brilliant  administration.  There  will  be  plenty  to 
quarrel  with  in  it  j  but  it  will  have  great  features  and  decided 
character. 

December,  1859. 

I  am  waiting  for  Congress  news,  at  2  A.  M.,  and  in  a  duU 
moment  write  to  say  there  is  nothing  new  about  the  printing 
or  the  other  thing.  I  am  somewhat  puzzled  by  the  Tribune 
offer,  and  what  is  best  for  me  under  the  various  aspects  of 
present  and  future.  But  I  shall  make  no  positive  conclusion 
at  present. 

I  do  not  think  you  judge  Parker's  book  on  Choate  quite 
impartially.  It  seems  to  me  that  it  is  a  book  we  should  all  be 
glad  has  been  written,  while  we  may  more  or  less  quarrel  with 
the  man  who  wrote  it.    We  may  say  as  the  man  said  when  he 


302     THE  LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

declined  to  go  bail,  he  had  no  conscientious  scruples  against  it 
—  he  would  as  hef  somebody  else  would  do  it.  I  wrote  our 
notice  of  the  book,  and  I  beheve  it  gives  a  better  idea  of  Choate 
than  any  other  man  in  the  country  than  Parker  could  (or 
would)  have  given.  Our  children  will  appreciate  it,  as  they 
will  John  Brown,  more  fairly  than  we. 

The  ducks — my  own  raising  —  were  as  fine  as  any  I  ever  saw 
or  ate,  and  I  felt  somewhat  disappointed  that  you  did  not 
come, —  especially  as  you  had  no  better  reason.  It  is  never 
"  ridicidous  "  to  seek  good  food.  Come  Saturday,  if  you  can 
and  will. 

In  our  editorial  to-daj^,  you  will  recognize  some  of  your  ideas 
and  expressions  as  to  Brown's  final  taking  off.  I  didn't  mean 
my  man  should  adopt  the  language,  but  only  use  the  idea,  with 
the  others  that  I  fished  up  for  him  —  but  he  said  he  could  not 
spoil  yours,  and  brought  it  to  me,  as  a  quotation  from  a  pri- 
vate letter.  This  would  not  do, —  and  as  there  wasn't  time  to 
wholly  remodel  the  article,  I  made  a  nice  piece  of  patchwork 
of  it, —  only  shrewd  people  will  be  amused  by  the  abrupt 
changes  in  style  from  feeble  to  forcible  and  back  to  feeble  again. 
However,  I  think  it  is  a  good  article  aU  around,  and  if  you 
aren't  ashamed  of  it  I  shall  be  reheved. 

February  9,  1860. 
Mrs.  B.  and  I  came  back  from  Albany  to-day,  after  a  pleas- 
ant visit.  I  saw  various  people,  and  learned  a  few  new  things. 
The  most  interesting  thing  however  was  a  dinner  with  Thurlow 
Weed,  and  a  long  private  talk  with  him.  He  is  a  great  man  — 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  men  of  our  time  —  one  whom  I  had 
rather  have  had  such  an  interview  with  than  with  any  president 
of  our  day  and  generation.  He  is  cool,  calculating,  a  man  of 
expedients,  who  boasts  that  for  thirty  years  he  has  not  in 
pohtical  affairs  let  his  heart  outweigh  his  judgment, —  and  yet 
a  man  with  as  big  a  heart,  as  quick  to  feel  and  as  prompt  to 
act,  as  the  best  of  the  men  you  and  I  have  seen.  He  is  quite 
eneoiu'aged  as  to  Seward  ;  if  Douglas  is  not  nominated,  and  a 
Southern  man  is,  at  Charleston,  he  says  Seward's  election  would 
be  a  sure  thing  —  he  knows  it.  But  enough  of  Lord  Thurlow — 
you  shall  have  more  of  our  talk  when  I  see  you  if  you  want  it. 


letters:    1857-1860.  303 

To  his  Wife. 

Chicago,  May  18,  1860. 

I  have  just  received  your  letter  of  Monday  night,  for  which  I 
had  been  anxiously  waiting'  for  two  days.  The  excitement  is 
tremendous,  and  the  nomination  of  Abe  Lincoln  has  just  been 
made.  Mr.  Seward's  friends  are  disappointed  and  sad,  but 
everybody  else  feels  that  it  is  a  right  result,  and  that  the  Re- 
pubhcans  will  succeed  with  him.  We  hope  Mr.  Banks  will  be 
added  for  Vice-President  to-night,  but  are  content  any  way. 
With  Mr.  Lincoln  we  shall  have  an  administration  that  wiU 
recognize  him,  and  give  him  a  chance  for  1864,  which  is  per- 
haps early  enough. 

I  am  now  disposed  to  go  over  to  Burhngton  (Iowa)  to-mor- 
row, and  spend  Sunday  with  Mr.  Fitz-Henry  WaiTen.  Colonel 
Lincoln  and  Mr.  Hooper,  of  Boston,  are  going,  and  earnestly 
desire  me  to  accompany  them.  I  shall  be  home  in  any  event 
next  week,  from  Wednesday,  but  probably  not  till  Friday  or 
Saturday.  My  cold  is  much  better  to-day,  but  I  am  wearied 
out,  and  must  rest  a  day  or  two  somewhere  before  starting  for 
home.  I  shall  probably  be  in  Chicago  on  Tuesday  or  Wednes- 
day next,  and  may  be  reached  there  by  telegraph  if  occasion 
requires.  If  rain  is  not  abundant,  have  the  trees  in  the  yard 
around  the  house,  and  in  the  lot,  newly  set  out,  freely  watered. 
The  strawbenies  should  be  watered  every  day  if  the  weather  is 
dry,  and  every  two  or  thi-ee  days  any  way.  Water  is  their  need. 
The  grape-vines,  too,  must  be  freely  watered. 

To  Charles  Allen. 

June,  1860. 

As  usual,  I  came  home  sick ;  indeed,  but  for  the  thi-eatened 
boil  which  disciplines  me  as  Job  of  old  was  not  comforted,  I 
should  probably  have  remained  in  Washington  over  Sunday. 
As  it  is  I  am  unhorsed,  literally  and  figuratively. 

The  news  of  Mr.  Ripley's  death  followed  quickly  your  fore- 
shadowing ;  but  I  did  not  know  of  it  until  I  read  Vose's  para- 
graph this  morning,—  for  I  did  not  go  to  the  office,  and  it  was 
not  known  I  was  home.  There  were  some  things  wanting  to 
the  perfect  man  in  F.  R.,  but  it  is  rare  you  find  so  much  ster- 


304     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

ling  stuff  in  one  life  as  he  lias  put  into  his.  We  may  well  be 
happy  to  compromise  with  our  aspu'ations  on  such  results  as  he 
has  shown  —  results,  I  mean,  of  life  and  character  rather  than 
of  worldly  endowment.  We  shall  hope  to  be  softer  —  shall  we 
be  able  to  be  as  just  ?  To  your  mother  this  must  come  with 
sad  and  serious  suggestion  j  and  you  all  have  our  sjTnpathy 
and  thought.  Singular,  is  it  not, —  or  would  be,  if  not  so  often 
illustrated, —  that  his  wife,  hovering  so  long  on  the  brink  of  the 
grave,  survives  him,  who  bade  fair  for  years  more  ? 

I  shall  keep  at  home  pretty  closely  now  for  six  weeks,  partly 
because  Hood  goes  off  for  a  month,  and  partly  because  it  is 
best  for  me.  With  horse,  and  regular  habits,  and  the  consola- 
tions of  wife  and  babies,  I  can  mend  better  here  than  away. 
We  want  to  see  you,  and  you  will  come  as  early  as  you  can, 
advising  me  in  advance,  that  we  may  have  a  clear  field. 

Once  only,  so  far  as  is  known,  did  Mr.  Bowles  "  drop 
into  verse."  Middle-aged  people  will  remember  a  certain 
kind  of  album  once  in  vogue,  with  leaves  of  different 
colors,  devoted  to  autographs  and  friendly  or  sentimental 
effusions.  One  of  the  women  employed  as  compositors 
on  the  Repuhlican  brought  her  album  to  him  for  a  con- 
tribution, and  he  gave  her  this : 

Our  Lucy's  album !    Come  and  write, 

Young  men  and  maidens  all ; 
Put  dainty  thoughts  in  phrases  trite, 

And  make  the  pot-hooks  small. 

Lovers  may  write  their  hopes  and  fears 

On  leaves  of  blushing  hue; 
Wise  women,  getting  into  years, 

Will  scribble  on  the  blue; 
WTiite  for  the  girls  ;  —  why !  bless  the  dears ! 

They've  left  the  green  for  you. 

Pass  round  the  book,  and  let  it  claim 

Free  gifts  from  generous  souls. 
An  album  only  asks  a  name. 

Here,  take  it, 

Samuel  Bowles. 

"Republican"'  Office,  September,  1860. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 
Ill  Health. 

NOT  long  after  Mr.  Bowles's  return  to  the  Rejmhlican 
in  the  autumn  of  1857,  he  began  to  suffer  from 
violent  headaches, — Nature's  sharp  signal  that  the  engine 
had  heen  overdriven.  But  he  held  close  to  his  work, 
and  for  three  years  more  his  power  of  labor  was  not 
perceptibly  impaired.  From  that  time  on  to  the  end 
of  his  life,  he  was  in  constant  battle  with  physical  in- 
firmity. By  avoiding  such  close  application  to  his 
work  as  had  been  his  previous  habit,  and  by  a  succes- 
sion of  journeys  longer  or  shorter,  he  kept  himself  equal 
to  the  main  guidance  of  the  Bepiihlican,  and  to  a  life  very 
full  and  rich  in  its  activities.  Yet  through  it  all  he  was 
a  crippled  man.  The  full  delight  and  power  of  health  he 
never  tasted,  after  the  tide  of  vitality  began  to  ebb  when 
he  was  only  thirty-fom\  It  was  after  that  age  that  he  did 
his  best  thinking  and  writing,  fought  his  greatest  fights, 
carried  his  newspaper  to  its  highest  attainment,  and 
ripened  in  his  most  characteristic  personal  traits.  But 
much  of  the  work  was  done  at  sore  cost,  by  strain  of 
will  instead  of  free  spontaneity,  with  penalty  of  suffering 
days  and  restless  nights.  The  actual  achievement  was 
tantalized  by  the  sense  of  higher  possibilities,  seen  but 
unachieved. 

Vol.  I.— 20  305 


306     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES, 

There  was  really  but  one  resource  and  hope  for  full 
recovery, —  rest,  complete  and  long-continued.  But  he 
felt  the  necessity,  first,  of  winning  a  competence  for  him- 
self and  his  growing  family.  He  felt,  too,  as  editor 
and  as  citizen,  the  absorbing  demands  made  by  the  swift 
succeeding  acts  in  the  great  national  drama.  When, 
returning  from  the  Traveller,  he  took  again  the  working 
oar  in  the  Hejniblican,  he  wrote  to  a  friend,  October  19, 
1857  :  "  I  would  rather  be  '  fancy-free '  for  a  few  months 
or  a  year  longer,  but  how  can  a  man  in  these  times  ? " 
In  "  these  times  "  the  Buchanan  Administration  was  try- 
ing to  force  upon  Kansas  the  fraudulent  Lecompton 
constitution.  The  Supreme  Court  had  just  denied  the 
possibility  of  American  citizenship  to  any  man  with  a 
black  skin,  and  given  slavery  a  legal  foothold  throughout 
the  territories.  Liberty,  opposed  by  the  government, 
found  its  champion  in  the  press.  To  take  part  in  the 
debate, — to  express,  and  by  expressing  intensify,  that 
public  opinion  which  was  to  dethrone  slavery, —  was  a 
task  for  which  a  man  might  well  be  willing  to  spend  his 
life-blood. 

The  circumstances  of  his  early  life  had  wrought  into 
Samuel  Bowles  like  a  second  nature  the  habit  of  unrest- 
ing activity.  He  had  almost  lost  the  power  of  mental 
quiescence.  In  his  own  house,  sheltered  and  watched 
over,  he  might  for  some  brief  hours  sink  into  the  languid 
torpor  which  the  overtaxed  system  craved.  But  no  home 
in  the  same  town  with  his  newspaper  could  be  to  him  a 
refuge  from  the  cares  and  thoughts  connected  with  it. 
The  best  resource  was  in  going  away  for  a  time.  But  he 
could  hardly  find  any  place  where  his  social  nature  would 
not  soon  engage  him  in  stirring  conversations  with  old 
friends  or  new.  How  can  a  man  get  mental  rest  who 
hates  solitude  and  who  stimulates  every  mind  he  meets  ? 
This  man  had  no  taste  for  solitude,  no  genius  for  lonely 


ILL   HEALTH.  307 

contemplation;  no  aptitude  for  that  inward  leisui'e  in 
which  the  mind  lies  fallow,  and  in  almost  nnconscious 
repose  accumulates  the  energy  for  new  harvests.  Even 
Nature  could  not  long  hold  him  in  silent  communion. 
If  there  be  a  spot  on  earth  where  all  soothing  influences 
unite  to  woo  man  into  self-forgetful  passivity,  it  is 
Mount  Desert.  But  even  there,  between  mountains  and 
sea, — with  the  lulling  dash  of  the  waves  to  soothe  the 
weary  head, —  the  air  strong  with  ocean's  salt  and  fra- 
grant with  the  breath  of  pines, —  amid  the  enchant- 
ment of  sparkling  bay  and  island  cliffs  and  sun-steeped 
hills, —  the  restless  child  of  action  could  not  be  still. 
Said  a  friend  who  was  with  him  there  in  1863  :  "  If  we 
lay  down  on  the  shore  to  watch  the  waves,  he  would 
jump  up  in  five  minutes  and  be  off  to  something  else. 
He  used  to  say  to  me,  '  I  wish  I  had  your  power  of 
enjoyment.'  The  fault  of  his  composition  was,  as  Carlyle 
says  of  Sterling,  that  he  had  no  inertia." 

Chronic  ill  health  was  henceforward  the  burden  of  Mr. 
Bowles's  life.  Of  his  bearing  of  that  burden,  the  most 
significant  circumstance  is  this,  that  neither  the  paper's 
readers  nor  his  personal  friends  were  ever  wont  to  think 
of  him  as  an  invalid.  To  those  who  every  morning 
scanned  his  work,  it  seemed  to  issue  from  a  fountain  of 
exhaustless  vitality.  It  was  almost  impossible  to  believe 
that  the  alert,  courageous,  various  newspaper  had  as  its 
central  inspiration  a  jaded  and  suffering  brain.  It  was 
almost  as  hard  for  the  great  cii-cle  of  friends,  to  whom 
his  presence  brought  reviving  cheer,  to  think  of  him  as 
a  man  harassed  by  sleeplessness  and  all  the  subtle  torture 
which  wrecked  nerves  inflict.  It  was  not  in  human 
nature  that  some  of  it  should  not  have  vent.  His  daily 
associates  in  the  oflBce  found  him  sometimes  moody  and 
severe ;  to  his  home  he  often  returned,  jDale,  silent,  and 
exhausted,  but  self -controlled  and  gentle. 


308     THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

Ill  health  was  not  without  its  inner  compensations  to 
him.  It  enforced  something  of  leisure,  and  with  leisure, 
even  though  it  be  that  of  invalidism,  comes  a  deeper 
and  more  delicate  sense  of  things  passed  by  without 
notice  in  the  midst  of  strenuous  activity.  It  taught  him 
lessons  of  patience,  sympathy,  and  charity.  Scarcely  any 
human  experience  is  harder  to  bear  than  the  torture  of 
mind  and  body,  the  suffering  and  the  weakness  which  are 
caused  by  nervous  exhaustion.  Yet  out  of  these  depths 
the  soul  may  bring  an  enlarged  being, — a  wider  reach  of 
sympathy,  a  finer  tenderness,  a  strength  of  endurance. 
In  the  later  half  of  Mr.  Bowles's  life,  there  was  an  alter- 
nation of  heavier  shadows  and  softer  lights.  Whoever 
compares  the  letters  which  immediately  follow  this  chap- 
ter with  those  that  precede  it,  will  recognize  in  the  writer 
a  different  man.  If  there  is  a  loss  of  outward  power, 
there  is  a  gain  of  something  higher. 

His  nervous  malady  came  upon  him  gradually.  It 
had  begun  to  make  itseK  acutely  felt  in  the  early  part  of 
October,  1860,  when  he  wrote  to  Charles  Allen  : 

"  I  am  going  through  a  '  crisis.'  I  don't  know  whether  it  is 
religious,  mental,  or  physical,  but  I  shall  be  better  or  worse 
when  I  get  through.  Whatever  it  is,  it  is  awful  night-mareish ; 
not  even  twenty-three  miles  of  saddle  on  Saturday  drove  it  off. 
If  it  doesn't  move  soon  I  shall  send  for  Mrs.  Cook  to  come  back 
and  write  my  obituary,  and  for  you  to  write  my  will." 

Against  the  assaults  of  disease,  his  chief  resources  were 
a  careful  regimen,  horseback  exercise,  and  occasional 
absences  from  Springfield.  His  physician  was  Dr.  David 
P.  Smith,  a  man  with  a  genius  and  passion  for  his  pro- 
fession, a  commanding  will,  and  a  volcanic  temperament, 
whose  power  showed  itself  best  in  cases  requiring  surgi- 
cal or  heroic  treatment.  He  never  took  rest  himself, 
and  it  was  not  his  habit  to  prescribe  it  for  others.     He 


ILL  HEALTH.  309 

used  to  tell  Mr.  Bowles  in  his  stammering  emphatic 
way,  "  K-k-kill  a  horse  and  it  will  do  you  good ! "  Mr. 
Bowles  learned  of  necessity  to  be  more  regular  in 
his  hours,  more  careful  in  his  diet,  and  to  take  more 
open-air  recreation.  But  the  regimen  which  is  ample 
for  preserving  health  is  often  quite  insufficient  to 
regain  it. 

It  was  a  time  when  no  man  whose  business  touched 
public  affairs  could  afford  to  be  sick.  Through  the 
winter  of  1860-61  the  air  was  stormy  and  electric.  One 
after  another  of  the  Southern  states  was  seceding ;  the 
President  was  imbecile  and  his  successor  inexperienced 
and  almost  unknown;  councils  were  divided,  and  the  North 
did  not  know  its  own  mind  and  heart  or  the  temper  of 
its  opponent.  Mr.  Bowles  inclined  to  a  hopeful  view  of 
the  situation,  and  looked  to  see  the  clouds  blow  over 
without  a  storm,  as  they  had  so  often  done  before. 
Then  came  the  day  when  news  went  over  the  country 
that  Fort  Sumter  was  under  fire, —  then,  while  from 
hour  to  hour  men  held  their  breath  and  waited,  word 
came  that  the  stars  and  stripes  had  been  lowered  in 
surrender.  In  one  instant  the  nation  shook  off  its 
paralysis.  One  great  impulse  swept  all  doubt  and  un- 
certainty to  the  winds.  To  restore  the  flag, — to  save 
the  Union, —  was  the  passionate  desire  of  all.  The 
guns  before  which  Sumtei*'s  flag  went  down  had  dealt 
the  blow  ''that  turns  the  coward's  heart  to  steel,  the 
sluggard's  blood  to  flame."  The  inspiration  of  that 
day — its  grief  and  resentment,  its  sudden  revelation, 
like  a  resurrection  from  the  dead,  of  a  mighty  love  for 
the  endangered  country  ;  the  fusion  of  white-hot  passion 
into  inexorable  purpose  —  was  the  baptism  for  a  life- 
and-death  struggle  of  four  years.  Into  those  years 
was  crowded  for  the  actors  the  equivalent  of  au  ordinary 
life-time. 


310     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

The  chief  place  in  the  drama  belonged  now  not  to 
legislator,  orator  or  journalist,  but  to  the  soldier.  But 
every  man  at  home  who  could  worthily  act  or  speak 
or  write  felt  the  call  to  give  the  best  that  was  in  him  to 
the  common  cause.  How  the  Bepiiblican  bore  its  part 
will  be  told  hereafter.  Its  chief  editor  shai'ed  to  the  full 
the  intense  feeling  of  the  time.  But  amid  the  tremen- 
dous rush  of  public  events  he  was  a  disabled  man.  He 
had  gathered  and  trained  the  assistants  who  could  carry 
on  the  paper's  work  without  any  very  marked  flagging 
in  its  quality.  But  for  himseK,  his  ebbing  strength  had 
almost 

"Amid  the  Muses  left  him  deaf  and  dumb, 
Amid  the  gladiators  halt  and  numb." 

In  the  early  spring  of  1861  he  rode  with  his  wife  in 
a  sleigh  from  Amherst  to  Springfield;  a  heavy  snow- 
storm blocked  the  highways ;  in  often  getting  out  of 
the  sleigh,  as  the  difficulties  of  the  road  required,  he 
took  a  chill  which  resulted  in  a  violent  attack  of  sciatica. 
Such  attacks  recurred  at  intervals  during  the  rest  of 
his  life. 

In  July  and  August  he  took  a  carriage  journey  to  the 
White  Mountains  with  Charles  Allen,  whose  brotherly 
fidelity  and  equable  temperament  yielded  to  him  always  a 
wholesome  and  grateful  companionship.  The  two  friends 
drove  in  a  buggy  up  the  Connecticut  Valley,  stopping 
sometimes  for  a  night  or  a  day  at  a  friend's  house.  Mr. 
Bowles  was  struggling  against  his  old  enemy,  a  weakness 
of  the  bowels.  He  found  something  of  tonic  in  the  long 
days  out  of  doors,  the  restful,  unexacting  companionship, 
and  such  scenery  of  river  and  meadows  and  hills  as  was 
well  suited  to  soothe  a  weary  brain.  By  every  such  out- 
ing he  made  some  gain,  which  soon  was  lost  upon  his 
return  to  work. 


ILL  HEALTH.  311 

In  the  autumn  he  went  for  a  month  or  two  to  Dr. 
Denniston's  water-cui'e  in  Northampton.  A  lady  who 
made  his  acquaintance  there  says  : 

"  He  was  the  life  of  the  whole  company.  Bent  over  with 
sciatica,  suffering  day  and  night,  he  gave  cheer  to  us  all, 
though  probably  no  one  of  us  was  suffering  more  than  he.  He 
helped  in  all  the  common  amusements,  and  was  quick  at  aU 
games.  He  had  a  happy  and  deUeate  way  of  receiving  kindly 
attentions  from  women,  without  any  sentimentahty.  To  every- 
body his  manner  was  gracious,  but  especially  to  plaia  and 
unattractive  people, —  he  had  a  knack  of  di'awing  them  out,  so 

that  they  became  agreeable  and  entertaining.     Dr. ,  a 

minister,  was  there  at  the  time,  sick  and  miserably  depressed, 
and  Mr.  Bowles  seemed  to  put  new  life  into  him.  With  myself 
and  my  husband  there  began  a  friendship  that  never  was 
broken  or  clouded.  He  had  in  him  a  great  deal  of  the  boy, — 
sportiveness  and  plaj^uhiess.  There  was  a  genuine  reverence 
and  seriousness,  but  it  was  his  habit  to  mask  it.  AU  his  per- 
sonal ways  were  deheate  and  dainty.  In  his  pronunciation 
there  was  a  touch  of  Yankee  intonation, —  a  shght  flatness  of 
the  vowels, —  not  disagi-eeable,  just  enough  to  give  a  rehsh  of 
the  native  soil." 

In  November  he  went  with  his  wife  to  New  York, 
where  they  took  rooms  at  the  Brevoort  House,  and  were 
both  for  a  number  of  weeks  under  the  care  of  Dr.  For- 
dyce  Barker.  Upon  their  household  had  rested  a  suc- 
cession of  shadows.  Following  the  three  older  children, 
there  had  been  born  three  others,  who  all  died  at  bu-th, 
and  another  time  of  anxiety  was  approaching.  The  event 
was  happy, —  a  son,  Charles  Allen,  was  born,  lived,  and 
throve.  Following  these  months  of  rest,  there  came  to 
Mr.  Bowles  enough  recuperation  and  steadiness  of  nerve 
to  enable  him  to  face  and  fully  measure  his  own  condi- 
tion and  necessities.  A  more  radical  treatment  was  nec- 
essary.   The  situation  as  he  and  his  associates  saw  it 


312     THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

may  be  illustrated  by  a  letter  from  Mr.  Bryan  and  the 
answer  to  it, 

Springfield,  January  14, 1862. 

My  dear  Bowles  :  In  the  name  of  the  Bepuhlican,  Amen ! 
Once  more  pardon  me  for  saying  to  you  what  my  sense  of  duty 
compels  me  to  say,  without  knowing  whether  it  will  be  accept- 
able to  you  or  not. 

I  am  satisfied  from  your  note  of  Sunday,  and  from  other 
facts  as  weU,  that  you  are  in  no  condition  to  come  back  and 
take  up  the  oar  of  labor  next  month,  and  that  it  will  be  a  most 
suicidal  act  for  you  to  attempt  it. 

Figuratively  speaking,  you  are  a  steam  engine,  and  you  have 
been  driven  beyond  your  physical  capacity.  The  machine 
worked  well  for  a  long  time,  and  carried  its  load  so  easily  that 
the  constant  additions  made  to  this  load  by  the  growth  of  years 
were  not  noticed,  until  it  had  been  overloaded  and  strained  in 
some  of  its  most  vital  and  intricate  parts  ;  but  when  it  began 
to  falter,  it  was  discovered  that  the  frame  was  not  so  strongly 
built  as  we  had  supposed.  Is  it  policy  to  attempt  to  keep  this 
machine  running  while  rebuilding  and  repairs  —  acknowledged 
necessary  —  are  going  on  ?  Shall  we  fit  a  cog  here  and  a  bolt 
there  while  the  wheels  are  revolving,  and  thus  run  the  risk  of 
so  complete  a  wreck  as  to  be  beyond  repair  ?  Or  shall  we  stop 
the  machine  and  thoroughly  rebuild,  depending  in  the  interval 
upon  such  motive  power  as  can  be  brought  to  bear  upon  the 
machinery  to  be  driven,  albeit  that  power  should  run  imper- 
fectly and  unevenly  ?  I  ask  you,  boldly,  shall  we  thoroughly 
rebuild,  and  rvm  as  best  we  may  while  the  rebuilding  goes  on, 
or  shall  we  patch  up  and  patch  up,  exposing  ourselves  to  the 
risk  of  a  total  break-down  ? 

You  must  not  entertain  the  idea  of  going  to  work  this  spring. 
I  beseech  you  not  to  think  of  it.  I  pray  you  take  warning  by 
the  past.  You  cannot  ward  off  disease  by  simply  resolving 
that  you  will  ward  it  off.  You  have  not  the  physical  strength 
sufficient  to  meet  the  severe  demands  heretofore  made  upon  it, 
and  why  renew  the  tax  upon  it  in  its  enfeebled  estate  ? 

But  to  come  to  the  point.  Without  attempting  to  be  dictato- 
rial or  presuming,  I  have  to  say  affectionately  and  earnestly, 


ILL    HEALTH.  313 

you  must  go  abroad.  Dr.  Holland  must  come  back  to  tlie  edi- 
torial room  as  soon  as  his  lecture  season  is  over,  and  give  time 
and  attention  enough  to  the  Bepublican  to  keep  it  in  as  good 
shape  as  possible.  We  shall  have  our  yearly  settlement  made 
up  in  a  few  weeks,  and  then  Ben  can  be  spared  to  go  abroad 
with  you,  and  I  do  not  think  you  can  find  in  the  whole  circle 
of  your  acquaintance  a  more  judicious,  useful,  and  interesting 
companion  than  he  would  be  for  you. 

I  am  actuated  by  a  desire  to  accomphsh  mutual  good,  in  thus 
writing  you,  and  have  not  stopped  to  ask  myself  whether  my 
epistle  will  be  well  or  iU  received  by  you.  My  appeal  comes 
from  a  grateful  and  affectionate  heart,  and  I  hope  it  may  be 
received  in  the  same  spirit  in  which  it  is  made.  Will  you  heed 
it  ?  WUl  you  look  the  matter  fairly  and  squarely  in  the  face, 
and  resolve  to  "rebuild'"? 

That  the  God  of  all  goodness  may  guide  and  direct  you  in 

this  matter,  and  spare  you  to  yourself,  to  your  family,  and  to 

the  world,  in  a  full  measure  of  health  and  strength,  is  the 

prayer  of  your  friend, 

Clark  W.  Bryant. 

Brevoort  House,  New  York, 

January  17,  1862. 
My  Dear  Bryan  :  Your  kind  letter  is  only  another  evidence 
of  the  constant  and  generous  thoughtfulness  of  youi'seK  and 
my  other  associates  in  business.  I  thank  you  very  much  for 
its  substance,  and  more  for  its  spirit.  I  should  be  mean  and 
ungrateful  to  resent  it  in  any  way.  The  subject  had  been 
already  on  my  mind  most  seriously.  I  had  foreseen  the  possi- 
bUity  that  I  could  not  resume  my  active  hfe,  as  I  had  hoped, 
this  spring,  and  had  contemplated  the  alternative  of  going 
abroad  quite  early,  say  in  March,  to  come  back  in  early  Fall. 
I  beheve  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  do  it,  if  my  fears  and  not 
my  hopes  are  reahzed  in  the  condition  in  which  I  find  myself  a 
month  hence.  But  I  do  not  wish  to  consider  the  matter  fore- 
gone till  after  I  have  returned  home,  and  been  there  a  few 
weeks  at  least.  As  to  how  and  with  whom  I  shall  go,  if  go  I 
do,  that  may  also  be  left.    I  am  weU  enough  and  courageous 


314     THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

now  to  go  alone ;  and  I  cannot  think  it  wise  to  take  Ben  from 
the  office  merely  as  a  companion.  My  absence  will  fall  more 
heavily,  on  the  whole,  on  you  than  on  any  one  else ;  and  so 
would  his  —  and  that  is  reason  enough  why  we  should  not  both 
be  gone  together.  Rev.  Dr.  StoiTS  and  his  wife  have  some  idea 
of  going.  If  they  do,  I  should  wish  no  better  company.  If 
they  do  not  —  and  I  must  go  —  somebody  will  tiuTi  up  or  I  can 
push  off  alone.  Ben  would  be  the  most  advantageous  com- 
panion possible, —  he  would  reheve  me  of  all  thought  and  care, 
and  everything  of  that  sort,  and  be  truer  to  me  than  anybody 
else, —  I  know  all  that ;  but  he  must  not  go.  That  I  consider 
settled.  You  get  along  splendidly  without  me.  I  shall  have  no 
fears  or  anxieties  on  that  score.  I  should  only  feel  oppressed 
with  the  serious  care  and  work  thrown  upon  those  I  love,  and 
in  whose  health  and  happiness  I  have  a  personal  interest,  both 
selfish  and  ujiselflsh.  But  we  must  follow  what  seems  to  be  the 
necessary  and  wise  course,  on  the  whole.  And  what  that  is  we 
will  let  February  develop.  I  hope  to  be  home  the  whole  of 
that  month,  and  if  I  must  go,  to  do  many  things  that  shall 
lighten  my  absence  for  others. 

.  .  .  We  send  much  love  to  your  wife,  and  though  I  have 
not  written  half  I  feel  of  your  tender  thoughtfulness  and  kind- 
ness to  me  on  this  and  all  occasions,  I  know  you  wiU  beUeve 
that  I  do  feel  it  all, —  that  it  even  burdens  me  while  it  blesses 
me  with  its  great  weight.     Good-bye  — 

Ever  yours, 

Sam'l  Bowles, 

The  following  weeks  confirmed  the  necessity  of  the 
foreign  journey,  and  brought  Mr.  Bowles  to  the  point  of 
taking  his  brother  as  a  companion.  It  is  hard  for  a  haK- 
sick  man  to  leave  home  and  wife  and  children.  Europe 
had  not  for  him  the  strong  fascination  which  charms 
and  draws  so  many  Americans.  The  appeal  of  its  asso- 
ciations and  its  art,  the  background  of  a  mighty  past 
which  colors  all  its  atmosphere,  spoke  to  him  less  strongly 
than  the  stirring  American  present,  with  which  his  life 


ILL    HEALTH.  315 

and  labor  and  affections  were  blent.  To  go  abroad 
among  foreigners  while  the  nation's  fate  hung  in  doubt- 
ful balance,  was  to  all  true  Americans  more  than  a 
common  exile.  But  to  put  the  ocean  between  him  and 
the  Bepuhlican,  to  find  such  restorative  as  there  might 
be  in  the  green  lanes  of  England  and  the  Alpine  snow- 
peaks,  was  the  best  hope  for  him  and  for  the  work  and 
friends  he  loved.  His  last  weeks  were  crowded  with 
preparations.  Dr.  Holland  was  recalled  to  the  office  to 
take  the  helm.  Everything  in  the  paper  which  its  chief 
could  foresee  and  plan  for,  was  arranged.  The  house- 
hold with  aU  its  inmates  was  provided  for  with  scrupu- 
lous care.  The  good-byes  were  said,  the  home  was  left, 
and  at  New  York  the  brothers  went  on  board  the  steamer, 
the  younger  looking  with  vigilant  care  to  the  elder's  com- 
fort. The  farewell  letter  to  the  wife  was  written  in  the 
last  minutes ;  —  and,  utterly  worn  and  weary,  his  last  act 
one  of  provision  for  a  needy  friend,  his  last  word  one  of 
courage  and  comfort  for  his  family,  he  gave  himself  pas- 
sive at  last  to  the  rough,  kind  cradling  of  the  ocean. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

Letters:  1861-1862. 

To  Charles  Allen. 

January  12,  1861. 

I  THANK  you  for  your  note.  I  only  except  to  its  apology. 
You  and  I  are  beyond  hesitancy  in  expressing  an  interest 
in  one  another's  welfare.  Some  months  ago  I  came  substan- 
tially to  the  conclusion  you  express.  But  I  am  in  doubt  as  to 
the  form  the  absence  shall  take.  To  go  off  alone,  to  Europe  or 
elsewhere,  would  destroy  half  the  benefits  of  relief  from  work  — 
perhaps  all  of  them.  I  am  not  self -poised  enough  to  travel 
alone,  without  wife  or  dear  friend,  and  get  comfort  and  good 
from  it.  My  wife  cannot  well  go  just  yet  anywhere.  She  could 
hardly  go  abroad  any  way.  None  of  the  three  or  four  —  two  or 
three  —  other  people  I  could  travel  with  happily,  can  leave. 
The  way  does  not  seem  to  open.  So  I  wait.  Meanwhile  I 
mean  to  spend  the  winter  as  easily  as  possible,  spending  another 
week  in  New  York  with  Mary,  and  perhaps  several  in  Wash- 
ington. Also  a  week  in  Boston.  I  mean  also  to  ride  regularly, 
and  eat  and  drink  more  caref uUy  even  than  usual, —  and  icork 
much  less.  Then  if,  when  spring  opens,  there  comes  no  substan- 
tial rehef,  I  shall  break  away  more  thoroughly  —  go  abroad, 
if  circumstances  invite  —  make  a  trip  to  the  Plains  —  spend 
some  weeks  or  months  in  the  country  or  at  a  water-cure  —  or 
make  a  long  trip  on  horseback,  with  Mrs.  Bowles  in  the  car- 
riage, through  New  England.  I  duly  appreciate  the  incapacity 
that  is  on  me,  and  hope  I  shall  prove  man  enough  to  conquer 
it,  both  morally  and  physically.    We  will  see.    Meanwhile  I 

316 


letters:    1S61-1S62.  317 

thank  you  again  for  your  kind  interest  and  its  expression.  But 
don't  encourage  in  me  the  selfishness  of  sickness.  Dr.  Johnson 
says,  you  know,  that  every  man  is  a  rascal  as  soon  as  he  is 
sick. 

Mrs.  B.  and  I  now  hope  to  run  up  and  spend  Saturday  or 
Sunday  with  you  —  we  will  do  what  we  can.  I  keep  better 
since  I  am  home  ;  yet  my  head  is  a  constant  pain. 

To  Miss  Maria  Whitney. 

January  15,  1861. 

I  yield  more  readily  to  the  inward  suggestion  to  let  you  see 
what  I  said  about  Holland's  book,  because  but  for  my  acquaint- 
ance with  you  it  could  hardly  have  been  written.  What  is 
yours  could  hardly  be  told ;  yet  I  am  sure  you  are  one  of 
three  or  fovir  women  to  whom  I  am  indebted  for  my  rebeUion 
at  Dr.  Holland's  Miss  Gilbert  as  a  "  representative  woman." 
The  nub  of  the  article  is  in  the  concluding  remarks  ;  yet  if  you 
have  time  —  and  are  not  to  read  the  book  —  pray  read  all,  and 
catch  some  idea  of  what  the  volume  is. 

I  find  I  bring  back  very  pleasant  memories  of  my  New  York 
visit ;  though  most  of  the  days  were  broken  through  the  heavy- 
weights I  carried.  Home  brings  soothing  and  sleep ;  but  I 
foresee  a  long  struggle  is  necessary  to  conquer  my  nervous 
weakness.  Yet  there  is  a  certain  illumination  with  the  dis- 
order that  is  enchanting  at  times. 

I  hope  I   didn't  shock  Mrs.   P with  my  freedom  and 

almost  irreverence.  Few  women  command  my  respect  so  thor- 
oughly as  does  she  ;  and  stUl  she  stimulates  a  sure  antagonism, 
and  challenges  an  opposition  that  I  am  certain  to  be  ashamed 
of,  the  moment  I  have  gone  away. 

I  inclose  your  thought  of  the  other  day,  as  developed  by 
Emerson.  Yet  I  am  sure  he  has  somewhere  brought  out  the 
other  truth  —  that  we  are  never  sure  of  our  knowledge,  nor  of 
our  ideas,  till  we  have  aired  them  in  speech  or  on  paper,  and 
thus  looked  at  them  from  outside  ourselves.  But  Emerson  is 
cathohc  to  all  truth ;  that  is  his  merit,  and  his  demerit  as  an 
efficient  reformer.  To  reform,  one  needs  to  hold  firmly  and 
present  savagely  a  single  truth,  or  one  side  of  truth,  and  this 


318     THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF  SAMUEL  BO^Ti^ES. 

Emerson  is  too  well  poised,  too  broadly  cultivated,  to  do. —  I 
have  thought  a  good  deal  of  your  suggestions  on  the  loss  of 
feehng  and  knowledge  through  their  expression,  for  they  inter- 
ested me.  There  are  some  subtle  distinctions  to  be  drawn  here, 
yet  I  do  not  know  but  you  were  nearer  right  than  I.  But  all 
this  will  keep. 

To  H.  L.  Daives. 

February  26,  1861. 

I  thank  you  for  your  notes.  But  I  can't  go  on  and  help  save 
the  Union.  There  are  patriots  enough  at  Washington  now  to 
do  that  business.  I  have  thi'own  my  sciatica,  but  I  am  o'er 
weak,  and  could  not  stand  the  fatigue  and  excitement  of  your 
capital  city  in  this  "  crisis."  Moreover,  I  am  afraid  I  haven't 
a  vital  interest  in  the  present  row.  We  shall  come  out  of  it, 
sooner  or  later,  safe  and  sound,  and  not  a  bit  sooner  for  my 
fretting,  I  have  a  great  faith  in  everything  but  the  Repub- 
hcan  party,  and  that,  if  it  chooses,  "  may  go  hang."  It  seems 
to  care  a  deal  more  about  getting  Mr.  Seward  out  of  the  cabi- 
net than  anything  else  just  now.  Lincoln  is  a  ''  simple  Susan," 
and  the  men  who  fought  a  week  at  Chicago  to  nominate  him 
have  probably  got  their  labor  for  their  pains.  But  no  matter 
—  Seward  is  a  necessity;  Chase  or  Banks  ought  to  be,  and 
reaUy  are,  if  the  machine  is  to  run  its  four  years  ;  but  let  the 
New  Yorker  with  his  Illinois  attachment  have  a  fair  trial.  I 
mean  to  be  as  loyal  as  possible,  and  that  isn't  very  loyal ;  for 
you  know  I  do  love  to  find  fault  and  grumble,  and  thank 
God  I  can  afford  to.  There  are  a  few  friends  so  demented 
as  to  want  office,  whom  I  desire  to  help ;  and  for  that  I  may 
go  to  Washington  a  few  weeks  hence,  and  then  I  shall  retire 
to  nurse  my  health,  and  mayhap  for  that  go  to  Europe,  and 
try  the  only  perfect  government  on  the  globe  —  that  of  Loids 
Napoleon. 

What  was  apprehension  about  Andrew  is  now  conviction. 
He  wobbles  hke  an  old  cart  —  is  conceited,  dogmatic,  and  lacks 
breadth  and  tact  for  government.  Yet  withal  one  of  the 
cleverest,  good-naturedest,  and  heartiest  fellows  alive.  We 
were  right  at  Worcester  last  August ;  and  the  people  will  yet 
see  it  and  perhaps  acknowledge  it. 


LETTEES:    1861-1862.  319 

As  to  compromises,  our  people  must  do  for  themselves  and  for 
the  border  states  all  they  can  afford  to  do.  Thej'  can  afford  a 
national  convention,  and  should  have  proffered  it  early  —  not 
accepted  it.  So  they  can  afford  to  grant  the  Adams  proposi- 
tions. It  is  not  concession  to  traitors.  It  is  only  spitting  on 
our  hands  to  take  a  fii-m  hold  of  the  government.  My  instincts 
rarely  fail  me  iu  poHtics,  and  they  are  sure  here.  It  is  not 
probable  I  should  see  this  thing  differently  at  Washington ;  but 
I  am  glad  I  am  not  there.  I  can  keep  cool  here,  and  calm,  and 
am  reading  poetry,  and  pitjing  my  fiiends  who  can't.  Heaven 
bless  and  keep  you,  and  bring  you  home  happy. 

TMs  letter  reads  strangely,  twenty-five  years  after  it 
was  written.  Lincoln  "  a  simple  Susan,"  Andrew  a 
good-natured  incapable,  compromise  the  way  of  safety, 
the  Republican  party  the  weak  element  of  the  situation, 
and  the  crisis  only  a  transient  panic, —  and  this  the  judg- 
ment of  a  man  whose  "instincts  in  politics  rarely  fail 
him,  and  are  sure  here  ! " 

Yet  any  one  inclined  to  pronounce  this  confident 
prophet  a  fool  above  aU  his  feUows,  will  do  well  to  re- 
member that  Lincoln  himself,  on  his  journey  to  his 
inauguration,  said  :  "  This  crisis  is  all  artificial.  It  has 
no  foundation  in  fact.  Let  it  alone,  and  it  will  go  down 
itself."  The  time  was  full  of  baseless  hopes  and  base- 
less fears.  But  this  letter  illustrates  one  characteristic 
mistake  of  Mr.  Bowles  during  the  years  just  before 
the  war.  He  failed  to  fathom  the  depth  of  that  con- 
test of  principles  which  underlay  the  surface  currents 
of  pontics.  He  did  not  habitually  see  that  slavery  and 
freedom,  justice  and  injustice,  were  mustering  for  a 
great  decisive  struggle.  Perhaps  none  had  that  insight 
except  the  men  who  were  themselves  animated  by  a 
profound  devotion  to  the  cause  of  the  oppressed, — 
and  he  was  not  one  of  those  men.  He,  like  many  of 
his   countrymen,  needed  the  schooling  which  the  war 


320     THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

was  to  give — a  schooling  by  which  some  profited  and 
some  did  not. 

To  Charles  Allen. 

June,  1861. 

The  horseback  trip  [in  company  with  Edward  B.  Gillett]  was 
wound  up  to-day  by  a  ride  from  Westfleld.  On  the  whole  there 
was  much  pleasure  and  I  trust  some  good  in  it.  I  have  found 
out  where  the  weak  and  where  the  sound  spots  in  me  are,  and 
that's  something.  The  boUs  the  exercise  brought  out,  and  which 
were  the  chief  drawback  to  the  happiness  of  the  excursion, 
show  a  poor  state  of  blood. 

We  rode  about  twenty  miles  a  day,  had  exceUent  weather, 
were  treated  with  marked  civility  by  distinguished  citizens  on 
the  route  —  spent  Sunday  at  Lebanon  Springs,  and  saw  the 
unkissed  Shakeresses,  and  pitied  them,  but  did  not  want  to 
kiss  them  —  dined  with  Esq.  Colt  at  Pittsfleld  —  and  came  over 
the  mountains  fi*om  Shefldeld  on  Tuesday  and  Wednesday. 

Now,  how  are  you,  and  what  of  the  book,  and  our  trip  to  the 
White  Mountains  ?  I  am  ready  to  start  any  time  and  go  horse- 
back or  with  a  carriage,  or  if  you  prefer  by  the  pubhc  convey- 
ances. Until  we  start  I  shah  loaf  around  home  probably,  but 
not  going  to  the  office  much,  if  any.  TeU  me  what  you  can  and 
wish  to  do,  and  then  I  wiU  fit  my  case  to  correspond. 

It  is  worth  while  to  give  a  specimen  of  the  letters 
(very  few)  which  passed  between  the  editor  and  his 
friend  the  congressman  on  the  subject  of  appointments. 
The  following  is  a  fair  and  sufficient  illustration  of  the 
grounds  on  which,  before  the  days  of  '^  civil-service 
reform,"  Mr.  Bowles  recommended  men  for  office : 

To  H.  L.  Dawes. 

July  6, 1861. 

I  have  made  some  inquiries  in  regard  to  a  new  man  for  the 
Westfield  post-office,  and  the  result  is  that  if  you  decide  upon 

that  course,  and  will  not  appoint  Mr.  R ,  you  cannot  do 

better  than  recommend  Mr.  T .    He  is  a  young  merchant. 


LETTEKS:    1861-1862.  321 

very  popular  in  the  \'illage,  of  high  character,  a  strong  and 
hearty  worker ;  and  while  he  has  been  a  moderate  supporter 

of  R ,  his  father-in-law,  H ,  who  is  one  of  the  leading 

men  of  the  town,  has  been  a  chief  supporter  of  W .     So  far 

as  the  rival  factions  are  concerned,  no  choice  could  probably 
be  better ;  while  in  aU  other  respects  there  could  be  no  fitter 
or  wiser  appointment.  He  represents  the  vital  elements  of 
society  and  poHtics,  and  is  himself  an  efiicient  worker. 

How  is  the  Huntington  post-ofB.ce  ?  If  you  seek  a  new  man 
there,  Edwin  Bowles  will  be  found  a  satisfactory  selection.  He 
is  a  young  man  of  twenty-three,  has  been  the  real  postmaster 
for  some  years,  and  probably  will  be,  whoever  receives  the  ap- 
pointment. He  is  a  second  cousin  of  mine,  but  that  ought  not 
to  hurt  him.  I  do  not  know  that  I  ever  saw  him  —  certainly  I 
have  not  for  years.  And  I  only  suggest  him  for  such  a  con- 
tingency, or  embarrassment,  as  you  find  yourself  in  with  regard 
to  Westfield. 

Heaven  help  you  through  these  hot  days  at  "Washington. 
GiUett  and  I  had  a  right  good  time  on  our  horseback  trip ; 
and  next  week  I  am  off  to  the  White  Mountains  with  Charles 
AUen.     Good-bye. 

July,  1861. 

My  dear :    .     .     .    You  must  give  if  you  expect  to 

receive  —  give  happiness,  friendship,  love,  joy,  and  you  will 
find  them  floating  back  to  you.  Sometimes  you  wiU  give  more 
than  you  receive.  We  aU  do  that  in  some  of  our  relations,  but 
it  is  as  true  a  pleasure  often  to  give  without  return  as  life  can 
afford  us.  We  must  not  make  bargains  with  the  heart,  as  we 
would  with  the  butcher  for  his  meat.  Our  business  is  to  give 
what  we  have  to  give  —  what  we  can  get  to  give.  The  return 
we  have  nothing  to  do  with.  It  will  all  come  in  due  time  —  in 
this  world  or  another.  We  shall  have  our  dues.  One  will  not 
give  us  what  we  give  them  —  others  will  more  than  we  can  or 
do  give  them  —  and  so  the  accounts  wiU  balance  themselves. 
It  is  so  with  my  loves  and  friendships  —  it  is  so  with  every- 
body's. There  is  no  call  for  any  of  us  to  humble  ourselves 
before  each  other.  To  do  right,  to  be  generous,  forgiving, 
kind,  charitable,  and  loving,  is  not  humihty  —  it  is  only  justice 

Vol.  I.— 21 


322     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

and  truth  to  the  God  in  us.  We  do  not  need  so  much  to  bai'- 
gain  with  others  as  with  ourselves.  We  should  measure  our 
own  powers  and  our  duties  —  see  what  we  can  do  —  what  is 
most  pressing  —  and  do  what  we  can  —  taking  care  always  to 
keep  ourselves  in  good  heart  and  body  for  the  service  of 
life.  It  is  as  bad  to  overdo  as  to  underdo.  In  doing  a  chief 
duty,  we  must  not  neglect  others,  even  if  they  are  hghter.  It 
is  not  faithfulness  to  wife  or  husband  or  children  to  neglect 
brother  or  sister  or  friend.  Our  faithfulness  to  the  lesser  duties 
gives  us  strength  and  capacity  and  usefulness  for  the  higher. 
If,  for  instance,  one  can  take  full  care  of  a  child  in  four  out  of 
twenty-four  hours  time  each  day,  we  do  wrong  to  give  him  any 
more  time,  to  the  neglect  of  other  even  if  lesser  duties.  We 
had  best  cultivate  ourselves  by  other  occupations  for  the  twenty 
hours,  so  that  we  can  do  all  the  child  requu-es  in  the  allotted 
four.  The  length  and  intensity  of  devotion  and  care  are  of 
less  account  than  its  intelhgence  and  usefulness.  But  I  may 
not  write  more ;  and  this  is  very  stiffly  written,  for  I  am  not 
bright.     Have  patience  with  me  till  I  am  stronger  and  better. 

To  his  Wife,  on  his  White  Mountain  trip. 

Plymouth,  N.  H.,  July  20, 1861. 

.  .  .  I  have  been  too  lazy  and  unambitious  to  do  anything 
aU  the  forenoon,  but  have  lain  on  the  bed  most  of  the  time, 
reading  the  paper  a  little,  sleeping  a  little,  and  dreaming  awake 
a  good  deal  —  wishing  I  was  stronger  and  better,  and  able  to 
do  more  for  my  wife  and  children  and  friends.  It  is  a  week 
last  night  since  I  left  home,  but  it  seems  twice  as  long,  and  I 
so  much  want  to  see  you  all  again.  It  does  not  seem  as  if 
I  could  wait  another  fortnight,  without  seeing  home  and  all  its 
fond  joys  again. 

Charles  has  been  sick  for  the  last  day  or  two,  so  that  he  has 
not  enjoyed  his  food  or  his  travel  very  much  ;  but  he  is  recov- 
ering now,  and  I  expect  to  see  him  eat  a  hearty  dinner.  I  hope 
to  have  another  letter  from  you  before  we  start  away  this 
afternoon,  and  to  learn  from  it  that  you  are  much  better. 
I  have  read  Dr.  Holland's  "  Renimciation,"  on  Mrs.  Flutter 
Budget  and  repose.    It  has  its  lesson  for  both  you  and  me, 


LETTEKS:    1861-1862.  323 

though  he  has  not  fairly  and  properly  put  the  question  in 
issue.  Sympathies  and  passions  are  gi'eater  elements  of  power 
than  he  admits.  All  they  want  is  to  have  judgment  equal  to 
and  directing  them.  No  matter  how  powerful,  how  acute  they 
then  are  —  the  more  so  the  better.  But  sympathies  and  pas- 
sions that  run  away  with  us  are  oftener  a  curse  than  a  blessing. 
You  and  I  both  need  to  strengthen  our  judgments  and  chasten 
our  sympathies  and  passions  —  not  to  subdue  them,  but  to 
wisely  direct  them.     Don't  you  think  so  ? 

We  begin  this  afternoon  to  enter  into  the  beauty  of  the 
mountain  scenery.  What  we  have  seen  is  but  the  taste  and 
suggestion  —  the  shadow  of  coming  grandeurs  and  beauties. 
But  regret  that  you  are  not  here,  to  see  with  your  own  eyes  and 
enjoy  it  all  as  you  can  only  — much  more  than  I  do  —  is  ever 
present  with  me.  I  should  be  so  much  happier  in  seeing  and 
feeling  how  greatly  you  enjoyed  the  scenery.  But  we  won't 
sorrow  too  much  over  that.  You  can  come  another  time,  when 
I  am  better,  and  better  able  to  enjoy  it,  and  minister  to  your 
enjoyment  of  it  too. 

TeU  everybody  I  am  very  well,  and  having  a  good  time  — 
as  I  am. 

North  Conway,  July  24. 

.  .  .  It  is  three  days  since  I  wrote  you,  partly  because  I 
have  not  been  where  I  could  directly  reach  you,  and  partly 
because  I  could  not  summon  will  enough  to  do  anything  but 
eat  and  drive.  I  have  been  tired  and  duU,  and  leading  rather 
an  animal  hfe.  .  .  .  My  sleep  is  stiU  unsatisfactory,  dis- 
turbed and  broken  by  dreams,  but  still  I  feel  that  I  am  grow- 
ing better  every  way.  .  .  .  By  your  birthday  I  trust  not 
only  to  be  with  you,  but  to  be  driving  down  by  the  sea-shore 
in  your  company.  The  last  two  weeks  of  August  at  least  I 
want  to  spend  at  the  salt  water  quietly  with  you.  The  tempta- 
tion and  duty  to  go  abroad  decrease  ;  but  if  I  do  not  I  shall 
probably  be  absent  from  home  nearly  if  not  quite  aU  the  time 
till  November,  and  then  you  and  I  must  begin  to  think  of  going 
to  New  York  for  a  while,  you  know. 

We  do  not  meet  any  very  attractive  people,  and  few  that  we 
have  ever  seen  before,  aud  have  made  no  new  acquaintances. 


324     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

I  have  no  disposition  to  see  or  talk  with  strangers,  and  Charley 
is  a  little  too  shy  to  commence,  though  he  has  done  something 
in  that  hne.  These  Boston  people  about  here  are  hideously 
plain.  There  are  plenty  of  fine  clothes,  but  a  handsome  face  is 
a  rara  avis.  As  Charley  says,  we  shall  have  to  take  to  hquor 
for  exhilaration. 

I  send  a  blue  flower  from  the  top  of  Mount  Willard,  with 
my  love.  Eemember  me  as  ever  to  the  children;  if  I  felt 
weU  enough  I  would  wi-ite  them  —  to  AlHe,  Mother,  and  "all 
friends  and  relations."  Don't  forget  Mrs.  Cook  in  my  remem- 
brances ;  her  notice  of  Mrs.  Browning  was  very  good.  Good- 
bye —  don't  forget  to  be  selfish  in  taking  care  of  yourself. 

Glen  House,  July  25. 

This  has  been  the  most  beautiful  day  since  we  have  been  in 
the  mountains.  The  sun  has  shone  out  steadily  aU  the  day, 
there  were  few  clouds,  and  the  highest  mountains  were  clear 
and  distinct  to  the  very  top.  The  drive  from  North  Conway 
was  pretty  hard  and  long  (five  hours)  over  a  muddy  and  hiUy 
road.  We  stopped  to  see  Glen  EUis  Falls, —  a  charming  water- 
fall, better  and  brighter  than  the  Falls  of  Minnehaha  in  Minne- 
sota,—  and  got  here  before  two.  I  was  quite  tired,  and  had  a 
bad  headache,  but  since  dinner,  a  nap,  and  tea,  am  better. 
We  are  right  at  the  foot  of  the  great  mountains — Wash- 
ington, Adams,  Jefferson,  etc.,  and  their  forms  roU  up  against 
a  clear  sky  to-night  most  proudly.  There  is  not  a  cloud, 
and  such  mountain  scenery  I  never  looked  upon  before. 
We  have  promise  of  a  beautiful  day  for  the  ascent  of  Mount 
Washington  to-mon-ow  —  more  beautiful  than  any  for  some 
weeks. 

.  .  .  On  the  whole,  I  feel  that  I  mend.  But  you  must  not 
be  impatient  at  slow  improvement.  It  wiU  probably  be  long 
ere  I  get  real  well  again.  The  nervous  weakness  of  years' 
acquii'ement  is  not  to  be  broken  in  a  month,  or  two,  or  three. 
But  I  feel  the  old  blood  tingle  once  in  a  while  in  my  veins, 
and  I  long  sometimes  to  get  into  action  again.  The  war  news 
stirs  me,  and  I  want  to  be  in  the  midst  of  the  fray.  If  I 
were  well,  I  should  certainly  go  down  into  the  midst  of  the 


LETTEKS:    1861-1862.  325 

camps,  and  see  this  great  spectacle  of  the  centurj'.   But  good- 
night.   Love  to  all. 

Glex  House,  July  27. 

I  am  just  up,  and  have  a  moment  before  breakfast  and  the 
closing  of  the  mail  to  report  myself  as  well  and  happy,  and 
"renew  the  assurances  of  my  distinguished  consideration"  to 
my  wife  and  children.  We  had  a  dehghtful  day  upon  the  big 
mountain,  yesterday.  We  started  at  eight,  and  did  not  return 
till  five.  The  stimulus  of  the  horseback-riding  and  the  rare 
mouatain  air  was  wonderful ;  it  was  hke  champagne,  and 
everybody  was  full  of  glee  and  joy.  Charles  got  up  a  flirta- 
tion with  a  pretty  Portland  girl,  and  I  contented  myself  with 
civihties  to  a  mairied  woman  and  an  engaged  one.  We  dined 
at  the  Tip-top  House,  and  a  stereoscopic  picture  was  taken 
with  us  in  the  foreground. —  My  sciatica  is  slowly  wearing 
away  apparently,  though  I  feel  it  some  every  day,  and  also 
when  tired  some  rheumatic  feeling  in  my  other  leg.  But  it  is 
less  than  it  was,  and  I  do  not  worry  about  that.  If  I  coiild 
only  sleep  straight  through  the  night,  without  waking  or 
dreaming  all  the  while,  and  feel  I  had  had  enough  of  sleep 
for  once,  I  should  be  happy.  But  I  hope  I  am  getting  the 
better  of  that. 

Littleton,  N.  H.,  Jiily  29. 

This  is  the  third  stop  we  have  made  since  I  wrote  you  last, 
and  now  we  are  again  in  the  Connecticut  valley,  with  our  faces 
set  homewards.  The  river  looks  beautiful  and  familiar,  and 
we  shall  keep  within  sight  of  it  for  the  week's  drive  that  is  be- 
fore us.  ...  I  have  not  seen  the  Eeptiblican  for  more  than 
a  week.  Only  one  copy  has  been  sent  to  me  since  I  left,  and 
now  it  is  of  no  consequence,  for  I  shall  soon  begin  to  find  it 
wherever  we  stop.  You  need  not  speak  of  this,  however.  I 
presume  it  has  been  forgotten  in  the  excitement. 

We  are  now  out  of  the  mountains,  and  it  has  been  a  dehght- 
ful experience  in  aU  respects  —  one  which  I  am  very  sorry  you 
could  not  enjoy  with  me.  I  will  try  to  tell  you  about  it  all 
when  we  get  back.  I  wish  you  would  give  my  love  to  Mrs. 
Cooke,  and  thank  her  for  her  pleasant  note.    I  wiU  try  to 


326     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

answer  it  before  many  days  ;  but  in  fact  I  am  in  no  spirit  for 
letter-writing,  and  have  a  dozen  letters  now  unanswered.  I 
liave  written  only  one  or  two  notes  besides  those  to  you  since  I 
left  home.  Charley  is  bright  and  happy  ;  Poney  keeps  up  his 
vigor  and  spu-its,  and  you  wiU  think  I  have  grown  fat  and 
happy.  I  wiU  write  again  to-morrow,  and  I  hope  a  better 
letter.  This  flower  I  found  near  the  Crystal  Cascade.  Is  not 
this  fern  beautiful  ?  The  woods  are  full  of  just  such.  I  am 
glad  you  are  getting  interested  in  the  soldiers  ;  it  will  do  you 
good  if  not  them.     I  meant  to  have  told  you  and  Mrs.  Cooke  to 

see  that [a  soldier]  had  every  desirable  comfort  that  he 

had  not,  at  my  expense  ;  and  so  far  as  can  be  now,  I  wish  it 
may  be.  Tell  Mr.  Bryan  and  Mr.  Gillett  that  I  shall  try  and 
write  them  in  a  day  or  two.     But  good-night  —  Heaven  bless 

you. 

Hanover,  August  1. 

I  did  not  write  you  yesterday  because  I  was  iU  with  a  bowel 
difficulty.  It  kept  me  in  pain  and  fretted  from  two  o'clock  in 
the  morning  till  night,  and  I  could  not  have  wi-itten  a  cheerful 
letter  —  so  I  wrote  none.  We  drove  from  Littleton  to  Bath  in 
the  morning,  and  staid  five  or  six  hours  —  I  lying  on  the  bed 
the  most  of  the  time,  and  Charles  writing  his  law  reports  ;  and 
ia  the  evening  we  drove  on  to  Newbury,  Vt.,  and  spent  the 

night.     I  went  to  see  Sophy  J at  Bath,  and  found  her  very 

weU ;  she  was  glad  to  see  me,  gave  me  some  late  Springfield 
papers,  and  sent  her  love  to  you.  We  stopped  at  a  charming 
old-fashioned  tavern.  I  slept  quite  well  for  me,  and  I  came 
out  recovered  this  morning,  though  not  very  bright.  We 
started  at  seven  o'clock,  and  drove  thirty  miles  at  once,  before 
dinner,  to  this  place.  I  was  very  tired  and  sleepy,  and  after 
dinner  had  a  httle  nap.   At  three  o'clock  I  got  your  last  night's 

letter,  and  was  quite  cheered  by  it.     .     .     .     I  find  Mr.  H 

and  his  family  here   at  the  hotel ;    also   Lucy   M (Mrs. 

F of  Brattleboro)  and  her  husband,  on  his  peddling  tour.    I 

called  on  her  to-night ;  she  was  prettier  than  ever,  and  appears, 
on  the  whole,  very  well. 

.     .     .    I  am  glad  you  did  what  you  did  about ,  though 

I  do  not  think  it  well  for  him  to  have  much  money.     What  I 


LETTEKS:    1S61-1S62.  327 

meant  was  that  you  should  see  he  had  clothes  and  Httle  com- 
foi'ts  for  camp  life.  However,  I  reckon  he  can  be  safely  trusted 
with  $15  or  $20,  and  I  am  glad,  I  say  again,  that  you  got  it  for 
him.  ...  I  want  to  take  you  off  to  the  sea-shore  with 
Pone  and  the  top -buggy,  aU  by  ourselves,  I  shall  wish  to  be 
at  home  for  a  few  days  first,  and  I  also  wish  to  go  down  to 
Boston  for  a  day  or  two  and  see  Col.  Lincoln.  You  need  not 
be  afraid  of  my  fretting  about  office  affairs,  or  the  sight  of  the 
paper  distm-bing  me  ;  I  am  vastly  indifferent  to  all  that,  while 
I  am  ill ;  but  I  like  to  see  the  news,  and  know  what  is  going  on 
about  home,  hke  other  folks.  .  .  .  Don't  do  too  much,  dear 
Mary,  either  in  housework  or  labor  for  the  soldiers.  Save 
yourself.  You  will  find  you  can  do  more  in  the  long  run  by 
doing  a  little  every  day,  regularly,  than  by  long  and  hard  days 
of  work  at  intervals  of  excitement.  I  don't  want  to  be  preach- 
ing to  you  on  these  subjects,  but  you  do  need  constant  thought- 
fulness  and  care  concerning  yourself.  .  .  .  Do,  do  think  of 
aU  this,  and  act  cautiously  ;  avoid  all  work,  all  excitement,  aU 
wi'iting,  at  night.  Let  the  evenings  be  given  up  to  quiet 
amusement  and  pleasure,  and  then  you  can  sleep  and  be 
refreshed.     There,  I  won't  preach  any  more.     .     .     .     While 

L is  with  you,  you  must  ride  out  often,  and  make  her  visit 

pleasant  in  any  quiet  and  unexciting  way.  I  would  not  have 
any  set  "  companies,"  but  invite  in  one  or  two  to  your  ordinary 

tea,  perhaps  every  night.    It  is  best,  too,  that is  coming. 

When  she  comes  you  had  better  inquire  if  she  has  left  any 
unpaid  biUs  behind  her,  and  have  them  settled.  See,  too, 
that  she  is  comfortable,  Avithout  extravagance  in  clothes,  and 
let  her  stay  in  peace  with  us  for  the  present ;  something  will 
tvim  up  for  her  before  the  end  of  the  season.  ...  I  send 
you  a  Harper's  Weekly  that  I  bought  and  have  read  to-day. 
The  niustrations  will  interest  both  you  and  the  children. 
Dickens's  new  story  is  finished  in  it ;  I  have  read  only  this,  the 
last  chapter, — but  it  is  as  sweet  and  touching  and  charming  as 
his  last  chapters  always  are. 

I  feel  as  the  three  months'  soldiers  do,  I  suppose,  that,  though 
I  ought  to  go  away  again,  I  want  to  go  home  first,  and  see  the 
dear  home  friends  and  scenes.     It  will  be  dehghtful  to  look 


328     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

you  all  in  the  eyes  again,  and  see  our  pleasant  parlors,  and  the 
comer  snuggeiy  by  the  bedroom,  with  you  in  the  arm-chau\ 
Would  you  like  to  come  up  to  Northampton  on  one  of  the  trains 
on  Monday,  and  drive  home  with  me  ? 

Don't  tell  anybody  what  I  say  about  myself,  except  that  I  am 
pretty  well,  getting  very  lazy,  and  enjoying  myself  very  much. 

To  Charles  Allen. 

Springfield,  August  8,  1861. 
.  .  .  Our  trip  is  a  bhssful  memory  to  me.  I  enjoyed  it 
more  than  I  expected  to,  and  am  sure  it  has  done  me  good.  I 
cannot  hope  it  is  equally  so  to  you.  I  was  too  much  in  a  sub- 
jective mood  to  give  as  much  pleasure  as  I  took ;  but  you  can 
have  the  satisfaction,  if  it  is  one,  of  having  **  laid  up  treasures 
in  Heaven,"  and  having  further  cemented  a  friendship  which 
has  run  many  years  with  unalloyed  comfort  to  me,  and  I  trust 
has  an  indefinite  number  of  such  yet  in  store  for  it. 

To  his  Wife. 

[From  Dr.  Denniston's  water- c\ire,  in  Northampton, 
October -November,  1861.] 

What  a  dismal  day  and  dreary  rain  !  I  hope  it  don't  fill  your 
heart  and  our  home  with  sad  and  blue  thoughts,  but  that  you 
reach  out  to  the  "  Beyond,"  where  reunion  and  happiness  are. 
The  carpet-bag  arrived  yesterday  morning,  and  opened  its 
treasures  of  comfort,  beauty,  and  love.  The  flowers  were  but 
little  faded,  and  I  gave  them,  after  admiring  them  in  detail,  to 
Mrs.  S . 

.     .     .     Mr.  H had  a   lot   of    grapes   from    Cincinnati 

yesterday.     We  all  had  some  for  dinner,  and  A has  just 

brought  me  a  private  plateful  to-day.     The  elder  Mrs.  D 

gave  me  a  fine  basket  fuU  of  big  apples,  which  are  a  great 
treat  for  me.  Everybody  is  kind  to  me,  and  I  only  hope  I  de- 
serve the  thoughtful  attentions  I  get  from  all,  acquaintances  as 
well  as  friends.  It  is  very  pleasant,  and  does  a  httle  something 
towards  making  up  for  absence  from  home  and  those  who  love 
me  most  and  best. 


LETTEKS  :    1861-1862.  329 

.  .  .  I  am  about  as  well  as  two  days  ago,  and  am  getting 
somewhat  impatient  at  the  slow  improvement.  Yesterday  I 
was  quite  blue  and  discouraged,  but  feel  better  and  brighter 
to-day ;  but  now  the  novelty  of  the  life  has  worn  off,  I  sup- 
pose I  shall  find  it  a  little  harder  to  be  reconciled  to  the  slow 
improvement  of  the  water-cure,  and  grow  impatient  at  the 
restraint  and  the  inability  to  do  what  I  yearn  to. 

.  .  .  I  hope  there  are  a  good  many  people  whom  I  shall 
know  and  love  in  this  world.  I  do  not  suppose  people  on  the 
whole  are  better  or  worse  than  myself ;  and  as  I  want  to  be 
loved,  and  believe  there  is  something  in  me  worthy  of  love,  I 
believe  there  is  something  in  others  for  me  to  love.  I  don't 
expect  to  find  perfection,  and  shall  of  course  be  subjected  to 
disappointment  in  some  cases,  by  people  turning  out  to  be 
what  they  do  not  at  first  appear  to  be.  But  that  does  not  harm 
me.  We  are  blessed  by  what  we  give  more  than  by  what  we 
receive.  We  need  returns,  to  be  sure,  but  we  can  often  live 
on  what  we  give  of  affection  and  faith  and  trust. 

.     .     .    Yesterday  I  drove  Miss  C ,  one  of  our  patients, — 

a  friend  of  Miss  L from  New  Bedford,  who  has  come  back 

since   you  were   here, —  to   church  and  back,  and  meantime 

myself  went  in  and  saw  M and  M— — ,  who  didn't  go  out. 

I  was  too  nervous  to  sit  stiU  in  church  ;  besides,  I  can't  bear  to 
exhibit  my  lame  back  to  a  miscellaneous  crowd. 

Let  me  know  what  the  cows  are  doing ;  and  be  sure  that 
Michael  feeds  them  f uUy  up  to  my  directions  —  two  quarts  of 
provender  to  each,  each  night  and  morning ;  a  half -bushel  of 
roots  (turnips  or  mangels)  at  noon,  and  as  much  hay  and  other 
stuff  as  they  will  eat  clean,  all  the  time. 

There  is  not  much  new  to  write  of  life  here.  Yesterday  I  was 
engi'ossed  with  Mr.  Tiffany  and  Mr.  Bryan  aU  day;  to-day,  Mr. 
Osmond  Tiffany  called,  and  I  found  Austin  Dickinson  and  John 
B.  Stebbins  down  street,  and  had  a  Httle  talk  with  both,  and 

made  a  short  call  on  Miss  P .     I  also  drove  out  Mr.  Delano 

for  half  an  hour,  and  offered  to  drive  out  with  his  wife,  but  she 
was  busy  with  household  affairs.    Miss  L and  Miss  C 


330     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

drove  out  with  Pone  yesterday  afternoon,  and  have  gone  again 
this  afternoon. 

Do  not  encourage  anybody  else  to  come  up  and  see  me.  I 
want  more  quiet  than  I  have.  I  will  send  for  the  children,  if  I 
feel  like  entertaining  them,  for  Saturday;  if  not,  they  must 
await  my  return  next  Wednesday  evening  or  Thursday  noon. 
Do  you  get  ready  to  go  to  New  York  on  Friday,  the  day  after 
Thanksgiving.  I  wiU  get  some  one  to  go  with  you  if  I  am  not 
able ;  but  I  expect  now  to  be  able  to  go. 

Mrs.  S is  delighted  with  your  basket,  and  blesses  you  for 

it.     Get  another  for  yourself  in  its  place.     I  play  a  game  of 

chess  every  evening  after  tea  with  httle  Mary  S ,  and  she 

beats  me  now,  after  two  or  three  reverses.  By  the  way,  do  you 
see  the  Harper's  Monthly  f  Tell  Mrs.  Cooke,  if  it  comes  to  the 
office,  I  should  like  it  after  she  is  through,  for  the  children.  I 
want  them  to  read  the  illustrated  articles  ;  they  are  interesting 
and  instructive.  In  the  November  number  is  a  sweet  little 
poem,  too,  ''  A  Game  of  Chess." 

Bear  me  in  sweet  remembrance  to  aU  friends,  in  and  out  of 
the  family.  Console  the  children  with  kisses  —  let  them  have 
"larks"  and  be  happy,  if  "pa"  and  "ma"  can't.  Finally, 
dearest  sister,  be  calm  and  peaceful,  and  as  happy  as  you  can 
be.     "  Thou  knowest  that  I  love  thee  " — and  so,  good-bye. 

To  Charles  Allen. 
Brevoort  House,  New  York,  November,  1861. 
Mary  stood  the  ride  much  better  than  I  feared.  Of  coui'se  it 
was  hard,  but  she  didn't  give  out.  We  are  cleverly  quartered 
in  the  fourth  story  of  the  Brevoort  House  —  up  three  flights  — 
in  a  very  quiet  and  retired  part  of  the  house.  We  have  a  nice 
parlor  and  bedroom,  ample  in  size  and  elegantly  furnished, 
with  three  windows  looking  on  to  Fifth  Avenue.  We  go  to 
bed  at  ten,  get  up  from  seven  to  eight,  breakfast  at  nine,  and 
dine  at  five ;  taking  our  meals  in  our  parlor  all  by  ourselves. 
It  is  somewhat  cosy,  but  very  odd.  We  are  as  genteel  as  may 
be,  but  after  all  it  is  quite  a  prison-house.  Maiy  has  not  been 
out,  or  down-stairs,  and  cannot  go.  I  hobble  down-stairs  three 
or  four  times  a  day,  and  outdoors  for  a  little  walk  once  or 


LETTEKS  :    1861-1862.  331 

twice.  I  have  got  out  as  far  as  Broadway  three  times,  but  have 
to  stop  and  rest  there  before  coming  back. 

Dr.  Barker  has  been  in  to  see  us  several  times,  and  has  got 
us  both  under  his  care  —  promising  to  bring  us  both  out  right. 
Mary  is  pretty  well,  and  hopeful  I  think,  and  I  am  better  this 
week  than  last  —  less  headache  and  more  sleep,  and  walk  and 
stand  about  as  usual. 

Mr.  Dana  came  in  to  breakfast  with  us  yesterday.  Mrs.  Dana 
has  also  called,  and  several  others  of  our  friends.  I  read  the 
papers,  some  books,  and  do  a  little  light  editorial  work.    .    .    . 

Let  me  hear  from  you  as  often  as  may  be.  Tell  me  all  about 
yourself,  how  you  live,  and  what  you  do.  I  long  to  have  you 
weU  settled  in  Boston.  I  believe  it  will  be  the  beginning  of  a 
long  and  prosperous  business  for  you.  Youth  may  not  come 
to  us,  save  through  our  children,  but  health  returning,  and 
prosperity  staying,  we  will  have  deeper  joys,  though  soberer. 

To  C.  W.  Bryan. 
Brevoort  House,  December,  1861. 

Our  friends  cheered  us  by  their  sympathy  beforehand,  and 
now  swell  our  thankfulness  by  their  rejoicings — and  none  more 
than  you  and  your  wife.  "  We  make  a  note  of  it."  I  wonder 
if  ever  baby  was  born,  the  object  of  more  anxiety  beforehand 
and  fehcitation  afterward.  Probably  not,  su\  It  is  a  '*  big 
thing,"  sir,  as  the  boys  say;  and  the  young  man  evidently  ap- 
preciates his  being  here,  and  don't  intend  to  make  any  less 
noise  in  the  world  than  he  has  done  already.  He  sounds  a 
regidar  Chinese  gong  for  five  minutes  before  going  to  his  meals, 
and  as  these  occur  about  once  in  fifteen  minutes,  as  nearly  as  I 
can  estimate  it,  there  is  considerable  of  a  sensation  about  all  the 
time.  However,  we  all  manage  to  make  ourselves  pretty  com- 
fortable, and  Mary  improves  day  by  day.  She  is  quite  cheery  and 
comfortable,  and  perhaps  the  following  bill  of  fare  for  her  dinner 
to-night  wiU  illustrate  her  condition  better  than  any  amount  of 
rhetoric.  ^  ^^^^  ^^  stewed  oysters. 

4  slices  of  buttered  toast. 
A  bowl  of  tea. 

And  there  wasn't  a  "  smitchel"  left. 


332     THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

All  which  please  repeat  to  the  sympathizing  family,  to 
cheer  them  up  during  the  Christmas  solemnities.  Young  mas- 
ter Charles  Allen — to  be  called  Al,  or  Alhe,  out  of  regard  for 
our  home  "  nuss  " —  sends  his  love  to  his  brother  and  sisters,  to 
his  grandma,  to  that  excellent  maiden  who  will  be  expected  to 
bring  him  up  ''  by  hand,"  as  Pip  was — to  his  aunts  and  uncles 
and  cousins — and  last  but  not  least  to  all  the  members  of  the 
"  firm." 

I  get  myself  up  straight  now  the  first  thing  in  the  morning 
by  an  half -hour's  faithful  and  painful  walking  and  family  gym- 
nastics, and  then  by  taking  care  not  to  let  it  get  cold  I  keep 
the  machine  upright  all  the  day.  But  the  rubbing  and  the 
exercise  don't  leave  me  much  strength  or  pluck  for  anything 
else,  and  I  sleep  well  for  me. 

There's  a' — that's  all  there  is  to  say  about  personal  matters. 
For  the  rest,  I  beheve  just  as  Hood  does — he's  right  on  all  the 
gooses.  Except  that  I  am  rampant  for  war  with  England,  and 
a  savage  one  at  that  [this  was  between  the  seizure  of  Mason 
and  Slidell,  and  their  surrender  to  the  British  government]  — 
confiscating  all  English  property  here,  and  putting  the  John 
Biills  through  the  hardest  sort  of  sprouts.  They  see  that  if  we 
maintain  the  Union  intact,  we  shall  have  a  high  tariff  on  things 
we  can  raise  and  make ;  that  they  must  buy  cotton  and  pro- 
visions of  us,  while  we  shall  want  none  of  their  truck,  and  so 
they  must  be  continually  paying  us  specie  —  and  thus  we 
come  up  to  the  head  of  the  commercial  world.  Hence  their 
ughness,  their  sympathy  with  the  South,  and  their  desire  to 
break  us  down.  But  good-bye  —  love  to  all,  and  many  thanks 
for  vmnumbered  blessings. 

To  his  oldest  Daughter. 

Brevoort  House,  New  York,  December,  1861. 
My  dear  Sallie  :  Mother  devolves  on  me  the  duty  of  writ- 
ing home  to-night.  We  are  both  as  well  as  usual,  if  not  better. 
Mother,  I  think,  is  quite  as  well  as  she  was  a  few  days  ago,  and 
quite  as  well  as  she  has  been  any  time  since  we  came  to  New 
York.    I  am  quite  straight  now,  and  have  been  for  some  hours, 


letters:    1861-1862.  333 

but  I  shall  probably  jdeld  to  the  pressure  of  fate,  and  be  crooked 
by  to-morrow  morning.  But  I  think  the  straight  is  getting  the 
better  of  the  crooked  a  Uttle  every  day,  and  I  hope  will  over- 
come it  altogether  by  and  by.  There  is  not  much  new  vnth. 
us  to-day.  Grandpa  comes  in  every  day  to  see  us,  and  talks 
wisely,  and  goes  away.  Cousin  Kitty  calls  nearly  every  after- 
noon, and  almost  always  brings  Mother  some  pretty  flowers. 
She  left  a  beautiful  httle  basket  of  them  this  afternoon. 
Flowers  are  very  cheap  here  ;  you  can  buy  a  Uttle  bit  of  a  bou- 
quet for  ten  cents,  and  a  httle  basket  hke  this  of  Mother's  for 
twenty-five  cents,  and  a  large  basket  for  $1  or  $2,  Mother's 
little  basket  contains  two  rosebuds,  several  carnation  pinks, 
some  mignonette,  and  other  little  flowers.  We  got  your  long 
and  nice  letter  of  family  news  this  morning,  and  were  glad  to 
hear  you  were  all  doing  so  well.  It  seems  to  me  that  Aunt 
Allie  is  putting  on  airs ;  tell  her  she  must  be  humble,  like  a 
good  Episcopahan,  and  not  snub  people  who  are  two  hundred 
miles  off,  and.  sick,  just  because  she  is  in  authority.  Tell 
Michael  to  be  sui-e  and  feed  the  cows  just  as  I  told  him.  .  .  . 
Do  you  go  to  Mr.  Townsley,  and  have  him  make  you  a  new 
pair  of  boots.  But  when  you  wear  your  rubbers,  wear  your 
old  boots  under  them,  if  you  can.  Be  careful  and  not  have  the 
house  too  hot  —  68°  to  70°  is  as  warm  as  it  ought  to  be  at  any 
time.  That  is  all  the  good  advice  I  have  got  for  you  to-day. 
Mother  and  I  both  send  love  and  kisses  to  all. 

New  York,  December,  1861. 
My  dear  Children  :  Mother  and  I  wish  you  all  a  "  merrie 
Christmas."  We  are  soriy  we  cannot  be  with  you,  to  help 
make  it  merry,  and  be  made  merry  too,  in  return.  But  you 
must  make  the  day  as  happy  as  you  can  for  yourselves,  for 
each  other,  and  for  all  around  you.  We  shall  think  of  you  all 
as  happy  and  enjoying  your  Christmas-trees,  your  Christmas 
visiting,  your  Christmas  dinner,  and  your  Christmas  givings 
and  reeei\'ings.  You  can  remember  us,  too,  as  very  quiet  down 
here  at  the  Brevoort  House,  but  as  very  happy,  too,  in  pleasant 
thoughts  of  you  all  at  home,  in  the  possession  of  a  new  and 
pretty  little  baby,  and  in  the  faith  that  we  shall  soon  return  to 


33-4     THE   LirZ   A>'D    TIMES    OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

onr  dear  home  and  family  and  frien<ls.  in  good  healtli.  and  find 
you  all  well  and  happy  as  of  yore.  Moths*  is  much  better  to- 
day, and  is  feeling  very  happy  indeed.  The  baby  behaves 
himself  better  than  he  did. —  mother  s  appetite  is  improving. — 
and  in  a  very  few  days  she  will  be  able  to  sit  up  and  to  come 
out  into  the  parlor.  It  has  rained  here  all  day.  and  a  httle 
snow  has  fallen  too.  But  the  rain  wouldn't  let  it  look  white, 
and  so  we  shall  have  no  real  winter  for  Christmas.  You,  I  sup- 
pose, have  had  snow  all  day.  and  will  have  shding  and  sleigh- 
riding  for  your  holiday. —  I  grow  better  every  day.  and  have 
stood  up  straight  nearly  all  day.  The  rubbing  man  I  guess 
will  cure  me.  and  by  the  New  Year's  day  I  hope  to  say  good- 
bye to  the  old  broken  back. —  Give  Mother's  and  my  love  to 
Grandma  and  Aunt  Allie  and  aU  the  uncles  and  aunts  and 
cousins,  and  all  the  dear  friends  in  Springfield.  We  kiss  you 
by  telegraph,  and  with  much  love  we  bid  you  good-night. 

To  Charles  AUen. 

Springfield,  February,  1S62. 
.  .  .  Tell  Lincoln  [Ezra],  with  my  love,  what  I  write.  I 
mean  to  write  him  in  a  day  or  two,  though  I  have  nothing  new 
to  say.  It  is  the  same  old  thing,  as  Emerson  says. —  men  and 
prophets  have  tried  it,  and  found  nothing  new  or  better  —  to 
love  and  be  beloved. 

To  Miss  Whitney. 

•Jantiary.  1862. 
.  .  .  How  can  you  utterly  desert  the  country,  these  pure 
and  beautiftd  days  of  winter,  and  lose  these  magnificent 
stretches  of  vision  —  the  long,  white  meadows  sentineled  with 
trees  —  the  vacant  stretch  of  the  river,  with  its  qtuck  life  be- 
neath a  cahn  surface,  like  the  great  human  soul  with  its  out- 
ward peace  and  inward  beating  —  and  away  beyond  the  gray 
and  blue  hills,  with  their  curtain  of  hoar-frost,  like  the  white 
veil  that  heightens  bridal  beauty  —  and  the  evening  reddened 
light  of  the  sun,  that  even  Gifford  never  yet  transfigured,  set 
off  on  the  eastern  horizon  with  the  cold  gold  of  the  rising 


LETTEKS:    1861-1862.  335 

moon  —  that  same  moon  now  grown  round  and  full  like  om- 
friendship  —  whose  first  faint  outline  we  looked  at  together 
from  Fifth  Avenue  two  weeks  ago  yesterday  morning — how 
can  you  leave  all  this  and  more,  the  pure  bracing  air,  the 
still,  calming  hush  of  Nature?  You,  country -bred,  country- 
loving — you  are  unloyal  —  you  are  "  secesh  "  against  your 
birthright  —  you  seU  yourself  for  the  mess  of  pottage,  the  routs 
and  excitement  of  the  city  —  the  adoration  of  men  and  women, 
the  fascinations  of  gas  and  furnaces.  I  know  what  you  will 
say  —  you  wiU  shut  me  up  by  telling  me  that  warm  and  loving 
hearts  are  sweeter  than  the  cold  beauty  of  Nature,  shine  it  ever 
so  brightly  —  that  —  that  —  well,  state  your  own  case.  I  am 
not  going  to  convince  myself.  I  stick  to  my  upbraiding.  And 
I  do  wish  you  could  parade  my  western  piazza  with  me  in  the 
first  flush  of  morning,  and  again  in  the  rich  red  of  sunset  — 
where  the  eye  travels  its  twenty  miles  at  one  look — and  then 
for  exercise  walk  off  upon  the  open  plains,  bounded  by  our 
familiar  friends,  Tom  and  Holyoke,  beckoning  us  to  their 
embrace  with  the  old  loving  sunny  sides  and  the  gilded  tops. 
Can  you  stay  away  ?  We  wiU  try  that  you  shall  miss  nothing 
if  you  will  come. 

The  weather  and  the  coimtry  are  very  beautiful,  in  truth, 
since  we  came  home.  I  never  knew  that  I  loved  the  country 
so  much  in  the  winter  before.  Only  I  get  nobody  to  enjoy  it 
with  me.     Mary  is  shut  up  with  measles  and  baby,  and  is  not 

strong  for  walking.     M is  not  enterprising  enough,  and  so 

I  have  to  push  off  on  the  road  sohtary  and  alone,  save  my 

thoughts.     If,  now,  you  and would  come  and  join  me, 

how  we  would  rolhck  under  the  inspiration  of  cold  Nature  and 
warm  humanity ! 

I  am  trying  "  )  read  a  httle,  yet  it  is  only  a  little.  I  exhaust 
my  Uttle  nerve  power  in  a  few  hours  of  writing  and  talking, 
and  when  reading  time  comes,  I  am  too  weary  even  for  that. 
There  is  nobody  to  read  to  me  —  nobody  that  I  want,  and  so  I 
get  on  slowly.  John  Brent  is  good,  though  —  you  must  read  it. 
Winthrop  belonged  to  the  men  of  ''  fine  forces,"  and  he  recog- 
nized them  in  others,  and  portrays  character  and  experience, 
nature  and  art,  with  most  subtle  and  sweet  power.     Then  the 


336     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

scenes  and  experiences  described  are  new  and  fascinating  and 
refreshing,  as  much  so  as  pure  soul  after  long  travail  with 
dirty  humanity ;  as after  boarding  and  Broadway  femi- 
ninity ;  or,  to  come  to  your  apprehension,  as  hot  whisky  to  a 
parched  throat.  I  am  only  a  third  through  with  John  Brent, 
and  only  wait  for  you  to  join  me.  ShaU  you  read  it  in  New 
York,  or  wait  tUl  you  get  home  1  Do  you  want  my  copy  ?  Then 
I  have  attacked  Dr.  Walker's  sermons,  which  I  have  been  wait- 
ing for  for  some  months.  I  have  much  respect  for  and  faith  in 
him  —  have  you  ?  I  have  read  only  one,  and  that  was  on  The 
Mediatorial  Mystery,  and  left  it  mystery  stiU.  The  others  wiQ 
fit  me  better,  I  hope  ;  and  if  they  do,  I  shall  ask  you  to  read  too. 
Thank  you,  too,  for  Mr.  F  's  [Frothingham  ?]  sermon ;  it  has  won- 
derfully fine  passages  —  beautiful  and  exhaustive  of  the  philoso- 
phy of  hf e ;  but  I  read  it  too  late  to  appreciate  it  aU.  Events 
have  thrown  its  material  pictures  out  of  hne.  I  copy  [in  the  Re- 
publican] some  of  the  exquisite  passages.  But  I  am  not  satisfied 
yet ;  let  me  read  more  of  him  before  I  pass  opinion  upon  him. 
I  do  not  feel  the  j)resence  of  that  greatness  I  worship  yet.  I 
have  got  out  my  neglected  Macaulay  (history)  also,  and  hope 
to  resume  that.  This  is  the  sort  of  reading  that  widens  and 
greatens  me  ;  it  confirms  me  in  my  philosophy  of  history,  my 
views  of  life  and  progress.  The  God  in  History,  when  recog- 
nized to  the  extent  of  faith,  gives  us  aU  patience  and  charity, 
even  with  those  who  differ  widely  from  us,  and  denounce  us 
and  our  opinions.  The  statesmen  and  politicians  of  England, 
in  the  formation  period  of  her  polity,  are  the  same  types  as 
those  we  see  about  us  now  —  the  conservatives,  radicals,  and 
middlemen,  of  every  grade  and  shade.  But  you  know  my 
opinions  on  these  and  kindred  subjects  ;  though  I  suspect  I  am 
really  more  of  a  radical  and  progressionist  than  you  beheve 
me.  I  have  talked  with  you  of  men  more  radical  and  hot  and 
impatient,  and  so  probably  have  not  done  justice  to  my  own 
tendencies.  Then,  too,  you  must  remember  I  have  necessarily 
schooled  myself  to  coohiess  and  philosophy,  and  to  the  look 
ahead.     Otherwise  my  life  would  have  killed  me  years  ago. 

Brent,  "Walker,  and  Macaulay  are  my  reading  for  the  present. 
Think  of  me  in  each. 


letters:    1861-1862.  337 

Bless  you,  my  dear  friend,  for  opening  to  me  so  freely  your 
religious  life  and  faith.  Had  I  not  been  gradually  recognizing 
it  for  the  last  two  or  three  months,  I  should  have  been  aston- 
ished to  find  it  is  so  great  a  thing  to  you.  And  I  am  siu-prised 
and  impressed  that  yours  was  that  common  experience  of  reve- 
lation and  rest  by  a  sudden  flash,  as  it  were.  There  must  be, 
I  suppose,  preparation  and  thought ;  but  the  finishing  stroke 
seems  God-given,  and  fastens  itseK  in  a  way  that  must  be 
wonderfully  impressive.  As  to  my  own  opinions,  it  would  be 
pretty  difficult  to  describe  them.  Perhaps  you  have  done  it  as 
nearly  as  it  can  be  done — yet  I  do  not  wholly  recognize  it  as 
my  condition.  AU  these  things  have  seemed  very  much  a  mud- 
dle to  me  —  my  mind  never  could  solve  them.  I  can  generally 
average  and  condense  the  intelligent  views  and  opinions  of 
others  on  most  subjects ;  but  here  the  wide  divergence  of  great 
and  good  men,  the  contradictions  of  revelation  and  science,  the 
variant  testimony  of  all  our  sources  of  information,  have  been 
too  much  for  the  grasp  and  condensation  of  my  mind.  So  I 
have  just  put  it  aU  aside — and  waited.  I  have  striven  to  keep 
my  heart  and  my  head  free  and  unprejudiced,  open  to  all  good 
influences — ready  to  receive  the  gift,  but  perhaps  not  reaching 
out  for  it  —  and  not  reaching  out,  perhaps,  again,  because  when 
I  made  the  effort  I  felt  a  sickening  feeling  of  hypocrisy,  mixed 
with  the  apprehension  that  to  go  ahead  was  for  me  to  go  back. 
And  that  the  faith  of  the  fathers  and  the  testimony  of  good  men 
forbade  me  to  do.  So  I  have  seemed  forced  to  be  content  to 
grow  in  goodness  in  my  more  practical  way,  and  to  leave 
theories  and  faith  to  time.  I  try  to  make  my  life  show  the 
result  of  Christianity  and  godliness,  if  I  have  not  the  thing 
in  its  theoretical  form.  Patience,  charity,  faith  in  men,  faith 
in  progress,  have  been  lessons  that  I  have  been  learning 
these  many  years.  Purity  of  life  too  has  been  a  steadfast 
aim.  Measured  by  my  fellows,  I  have  been  successful  —  more 
successful  than  many  who  have  firmer  foundations,  or  affect 
to  have.  But  this  consciousness  is  injurious  to  me.  It  is  lead- 
ing me  to  be  content.  It  is  perhaps  reconciling  me  to  a  little 
sin.  And  indeed  I  do  not  expect  ever  to  be  perfectly  good,  or 
to  find  any  other  person  so.     I  do  not  see  how  that  is  possible 

Vol.  I.— 22 


338     THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

with  any  nature.  That  is,  I  mean  by  goodness,  purity  of  soul — 
perfect  purity  in  thought  as  well  as  action.  Deeds  may  be  com- 
manded, though  that  is  rare,  and  I  do  not  know  that  I  ever 
saw  or  expect  to  see  a  person  who  can  do  it, —  but  the  thought, 
never,  it  seems  to  me,  so  long  as  we  are  human.  Indeed,  does 
God  expect  or  demand  it  of  us  ?  We  cannot  crucify  our  earthly 
desires, —  that  has  been  tried,  and  it  was  semi -barbarism.  They 
are  the  elements  of  growth,  of  usefulness,  of  progress,  almost 
as  much  as  the  yearnings  of  a  higher  and  holier  nature.  Strike 
out  from  the  world  the  deeds  or  that  portion  of  them  done 
through  the  promptings  of  what  may  be  called  the  human  side 
of  our  nature  —  ambition,  selfishness,  passion,  love,  hate,  etc. — 
and  the  world  would  stop,  retrograde.  There  is  not  force 
enough  in  the  divinity  within  us  to  carry  on  the  machine.  Does 
not  God  understand  this  better  than  we  do  ?  Are  we  not  made 
as  we  are  with  a  view  to  produce  the  greatest  results  ?  Let  any 
candid  mind,  honest  but  severe,  examine  the  motives  which 
lead  it  to  the  execution  of  its  highest  and  noblest  deeds — I 
imagine  it  will  find  subtly  but  not  always  feebly  working  there 
some  elements  of  selfishness,  pride,  ambition,  desire  to  appear 
well,  make  an  impression,  gain  the  applause  of  the  multitudes 
or  the  one.  Did  you  ever  think  of  that  ^  I  have,  and  watched 
myself  and  others — and  sometimes  I  have  thought  there  was 
never  an  absolutely  pure  action — pure  I  mean  of  any  human  ele- 
ment, wholly  divine.  And  why  should  there  be  ?  Can  human 
beings  become  divinities  —  wholly,  exclusively  1  When  they  do 
they  will  cease  to  be  human,  and  go  hence.  So  I  learn  patience 
and  charity,  even  for  myselE.  All  progress,  all  good,  is  but  an 
approximation.  The  end  is  never  reached,  never  can  be,  per- 
haps never  could  be, —  but  the  effort  should  be  continuous 
and  earnest.  It  should  also  be  intelligent.  It  should  not  be 
self-upbraiding  and  morbidly  dissatisfied  with  itself.  Praise  is 
said  to  be  useful  to  others  —  is  it  not  to  ourselves  from  our- 
selves ?  Justice  is  the  better  word  —  we  should  be  just  and 
generous  to  ourselves.  There  are  some  people  —  are  you  not 
one  •?  —  charitable  and  loving  and  generous  to  everybody  else, 
but  hard  and  severe  to  themselves.  This  is  cruel,  wicked.  It 
Hmits  their  happiness  and  their  usefulness.     One  of  our  first 


letters:    1861-1862.  339 

duties  is  to  ourselves  —  to  make  ourselves  happy.  Then  we  can 
make  others  happy,  and  make  them  grow,  and  grow  with  them. 
Of  eoui'se,  indulgence  is  not  always  the  way  to  make  ourselves 
happy  —  and  yet  there  are  some  indulgences  that  we  should 
permit  ourselves.  The  philosophy  of  life  is  understood  by  but 
few.  Our  humanity  makes  us  oftener  blindly  practice  and 
illustrate  it,  than  spread  intelligent  theories.  We  practice 
better  than  we  preach.  Mr.  Staples's  sennon  had  some  fine 
illustrations  bearing  on  this  point  —  the  protests  and  conquer- 
ing protests  of  human  nature  against  dogmas  and  creeds  and 
theories,  that  seemed  to  be  of  God  at  the  time, —  you  remember 
them.  There  is  no  end  of  the  application  of  this  philosophy ; 
the  difficulty  is  in  the  intelligent  apphcation.  Give  one  man  the 
doctrine  I  have  enunciated,  and  he  would  run  away  to  the 
de^al  under  it.  And  in  the  apphcation  of  it,  there  will  occur 
thousands  of  cases  full  of  doubt  and  tiial  —  questions  of  Love 
and  Duty  —  Duty  to  ourselves  and  Love  to  others.  .  .  .  And 
indeed  in  the  apphcation  of  any  rule  there  would  spring  up  a 
new  crop  of  questions  below  the  fii-st  —  and  so  on  and  on. 
Here  is  the  field  for  our  higher  inteUigence,  our  purest  justice 
to  ourselves  and  to  others.  Every  one  must  be  a  law  unto 
himself.    If  I  should  tell  you  what  to  do,   in  the  case  of 

,  it  might  be  impossible  for  you  to  do  it  —  it  might  give 

too  httle  to  yourself  or  too  little  to  him. —  And  all  this  is  hf e. 
"We  grow  in  all  ways  and  by  all  sorts  of  means  —  here  by  indul- 
gence, there  by  restraint.  But  I  think  you,  and  such  as  you, 
as  often  do  yourselves  wrong  by  restraint  as  by  indulgence,  by 
being  unjust  to  yourselves  in  your  great  desire  to  do  no  injus- 
tice to  others.  ...  I  have  meant  to  speak  generally,  and 
to  utter  very  generally  my  views  of  rehgion  and  life  and 
humanity.  Perhaps  you  think  it  is  low — that  it  betrays  lack  of 
faith  in  humanity  as  weU  as  faith  in  God.  Consider  it  again  and 
you  will  think  otherwise,  I  have  great  faith  in  man,  and  the 
faith  in  God  is  perfect,  only  it  cannot  describe  and  take  hold  of 
the  object.  But  I  have  run  away  from  my  rehgious  hfe.  I  know 
what  I  want  and  lack  —  it  is  a  higher  inspu-ation.  It  would 
not  change  my  theories,  but  it  would  lift  up  my  hfe,  give  it 
more  play,  more  richness,  more  power  for  daily  good. 


340     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

To  his  Wife  before  sailing  for  Europe. 

Brevoort  House,  Tuesday  night. 
Dearest:  We  are  in  the  midst  of  a  snow-storm,  but  the 
Cunard  steamers  wait  for  nothing,  and  besides  it  will  probably 
be  clear  to-morrow.  I  was  very  deeply  drained  by  the  last  few 
days  at  home,  but  surprised  that  I  was  able  to  stand  so  much. 
There  was  a  cheery  crowd  of  men  at  the  depot ;  the  Briggses 
and  Merricks  were  on  the  train ;  and  I  had  a  pleasant  call  at 
New  Haven  with  the  Whitneys,  and  got  in  here  in  good  season 
at  night,  and  went  to  bed  by  eleven  o'clock,  and  had  a  fair 
sleep  for  me.  To-day  I  have  been  about  a  Httle,  but  not  so 
much  as  I  had  proposed.  The  weather  was  bad,  and  I  could 
not  go  over  to  Brooklyn  without  too  great  fatigue,  and  so  I  cut 
that  and  some  other  calls  I  had  intended  to  make.  I  find  it 
very  easy  to  say  good-bye  to  friends  after  the  hard  strain  of 
parting  with  home  and  its  nearer  and  dearer  ones.  On  the 
whole  I  feel  better  and  cheerier  about  my  going  away  than  I 
have  done.  I  have  faith  that  it  will  aU  work  out  rightly  and 
happily  for  my  and  our  happiness  and  health.  At  any  rate,  we 
must  both  act  and  hve  as  though  we  expected  and  beheved 
that.  But  as  I  have  kept  clear  of  emotional  indulgences  since 
I  left  home,  I  will  not  get  back  to  them  now,  for  if  I  do  I 
shall  break  down.  You  know  how  I  feel  and  what  I  should  say 
if  I  yielded  to  the  impulses  of  the  heart  and  the  occasion.  .  .  . 

Brevoort,  9  o'clock,  Wednesday. 

Dearest  :  Now  good-bye  for  a  few  months.  We  shall  come 
together  again,  healthier  and  happier — both  better  I  trust  for 
the  separation.  Don't  shut  yourself  up.  Go  out,  circulate 
around,  see  your  friends,  and  know  always  that  I  never  shall 
be  so  happy  as  when  I  know  you  are  well  and  happy  and  en- 
joying all  that  hfe  gives  you  of  home  and  friends  and  beauty 
and  love  around  you.     .     .     . 

has  just  come  in  to  say  good-bye.     He  will  write  you. 

He  accepts  our  offer.  I  am  very  glad  of  it.  Now  send  him 
and the  money  regularly,  and  teU  nobody.     .     .     . 

Kisses  and  love  for  children,  and  love  for  every  friend. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII, 
The  Cr\^iL  War. 

UNTIL  April,  1861,  politics  was  but  an  incidental  and 
minor  interest  of  the  American  citizen.  The  peo- 
ple of  the  Northern  states  plowed  and  reaped,  builded 
and  traded,  and  were  absorbed  in  the  interests  of  the 
family  and  the  neighborhood.  They  read  the  newspa- 
pers, talked  over  the  news  of  the  day,  went  to  town- 
meeting  or  to  the  polling-place  once  or  twice  a  year, 
and  seemed  to  leave  the  affairs  of  the  nation  mainly  to 
congressmen,  editors,  and  wire-pullers.  Then  the  aspect 
of  the  country  changed  as  suddenly  as  when  the  curtain 
rises  on  a  new  scene  in  the  theater.  These  men  of  peace 
left  theii"  plows  and  shops  and  forges,  and  by  hundreds 
of  thousands  enlisted  for  the  discipline  of  the  camp  and 
the  perils  of  the  battle-field.  The  flower  of  the  popula- 
tion resolved  itself  into  an  army.  Back  of  that  army  lay 
the  resources  and  the  hearts  of  the  entire  community. 

The  people  of  the  South  fought  to  vindicate  their  po- 
litical independence  and  in  defense  of  their  homes.  To 
the  typical  Southerner,  always  attached  to  his  state  and 
his  section  more  than  to  the  Union,  the  defense  of  the 
Confederacy  against  invasion  was  as  natural  an  impulse 
as  was  his  forefathers'  maintenance  of  American  inde- 
pendence against  Great  Britain.  A  minority  had  opposed 
secession  as  politically  inexpedient.     But  the  moment 

341 


342     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF    SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

the  invasion  of  Northern  armies  was  seen  to  impend,  the 
instinct  to  defend  their  firesides  roused  the  whole  white 
population  into  a  resistance  as  united  and  as  resolute  as 
ever  a  people  made.  The  slaves  remained  peacefully  at 
their  work,  save  when  the  approach  of  the  Union  armies 
tempted  the  more  adventurous  to  flight.  Many  of  them, 
when  emancipated  in  the  course  of  the  war,  enlisted  in  the 
Union  armies,  and  showed  abundant  courage  as  well  as 
capacity  for  discipline.  The  masters  of  the  slaves  did  not 
venture  to  enroll  them  as  troops,  but  families  were  freely 
entrusted  to  their  fidelity  on  many  a  lonely  plantation. 

The  people  of  the  North  had  not  their  independence  to 
fight  for,  or  their  homes  to  defend.  Secession,  if  success- 
ful, would  have  left  to  the  Northern  communities  the 
same  independence  as  to  the  Southern.  There  was  no 
immediate  menace  to  Northern  firesides.  But  what  was 
menaced  was  the  unity  of  the  American  nation.  By  a 
marvelous  instinct  the  common  people  of  the  Northern 
states  realized  that  the  breaking  up  of  the  Union  was  an 
ultimate  danger  to  the  personal  freedom  and  safety  of 
all  its  present  and  future  myriads.  It  was  the  first  step 
in  the  dissolution  of  a  great  social  order  into  warring 
atoms.  They  recognized,  by  an  intuition  deeper  than 
logic,  that  the  welfare  of  each  household  in  the  land  was 
bound  up  with  the  organic  life  of  the  nation.  They  saw 
in  the  stars  and  stripes  the  imperiled  symbol  of  the  com- 
mon good  and  the  common  right.  To  defend  that  they 
staked  their  fortunes  and  their  lives. 

The  North  began  the  war  in  a  temper  of  passionate 
ardor  and  hope,  looking  for  speedy  victory.  The  defeat 
at  Bull  Run  was  a  bitter  disappointment ;  but  after  the 
first  shock  came  a  bracing  of  the  sinews  for  a  longer 
effort, —  very  long,  they  thought,  it  could  not  be.  Then 
followed  the  organization  and  slow  training  of  McClel- 
lan's  army ;  the  schooling  of  the  nation  in  patience ;  a 
confident  expectation  that  the  Peninsular  campaign  in 


THE   CIVIL   WAR.  343 

early  summer  of  1862  was  to  be  the  decisive  stroke ; — 
then  the  seven  days'  struggle,  and  the  heart-sickening 
sense  that  it  had  failed.  Fresh  calls  for  troops  followed ; 
then  the  rebels'  invasion  of  Maryland  and  their  repulse 
at  Antietam ;  —  the  successes  in  the  West,  the  resistless 
march  down  the  IVIississippi  and  its  tributaries,  to  meet 
the  conquerors  of  New  Orleans;  —  but  for  the  brave 
army  of  the  Potomac  fresh  repulses,  and  the  slaughters 
of  Chancellorsville  and  Fredericksburg.  So  went 
the  tremendous  alternation,  hope  now  drooping  at 
delay,  now  flushed  by  triumph.  The  story  was  not  sin- 
gle but  million-fold,  as  in  the  homes  of  East  and  West 
the  eyes  of  fathers  and  mothers  and  wives  and  sisters 
were  fastened  on  their  soldier  in  the  field,  while  they  fol- 
lowed with  scarce  less  eagerness  the  fortunes  of  the  cause 
to  which  they  had  given  so  much. 

Slowly  tui'ned  the  doubtful  tide  of  war.  Lee's  army 
taking  the  offensive  met  at  Gettysburg  a  great  disaster; 
thrown  again  on  the  defensive,  again  it  held  at  bay 
the  overwhelming  numbers  which  the  North  poured 
against  it.  Vicksburg  fell  and  Port  Hudson; — "the 
father  of  waters,"  said  Lincoln,  "  flows  again  unvexed  to 
the  sea."  Grant,  the  conqueror  of  the  West,  was  called 
to  lead  the  final  assault  on  the  rebel  capital ;  then  came  a 
summer  of  multitudinous  slaughter; — meanwhile,  Sher- 
man's victorious  march  through  the  heart  of  the  exhausted 
South, —  then  the  winter  before  Petersburg,  besieger  and 
besieged  locked  in  the  last  grim  clutch, —  until  outnum- 
bered, starved,  overborne,  but  dangerous  to  the  last, 
Lee's  army  fell.  The  agony  was  ended, —  the  nation  was 
one,  and  free. 

The  North's  first  impulse  of  loyalty  to  the  Union 
became  mixed  as  the  struggle  went  on  with  both  finer 
and  coarser  forces.  It  fought  at  first  for  an  unbroken 
nationality.  Soon  rose  in  many  minds  the  purpose,  not 
only  to  preserve  but  to  purify  that  nationality, —  to  make 


344     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

an  end  of  the  legalized  wrong  against  a  race.  That  pur- 
pose was  opposed  for  a  while  by  the  legalists,  the  timid, 
the  selfish  —  but  it  prevailed;  and  the  North  fought 
through  the  last  half  of  the  war  for  universal  freedom  as 
well  as  for  national  unity.  At  bottom  the  South  was 
fighting  for  the  power  to  hold  men  in  slavery,  and  the 
North  was  fighting  to  break  down  that  power. 

Yet  other  motives  had  large  place.  The  North  had  a 
great  material  stake  in  the  contest.  To  the  West,  the 
possession  of  the  lower  Mississippi  by  a  foreign  power 
meant  commercial  vassalage.  While  the  South  was 
utterly  impoverished  by  the  war, —  its  one  product,  cot- 
ton, being  shut  off  from  market  by  a  blockade  which  also 
excluded  all  imports, —  the  teeming  population  and  mani- 
fold industry  of  the  North  were  not  exhausted  by  the 
drafts  of  the  conflict.  Its  shipping  was  driven  from 
the  seas  by  the  Confederate  cruisers,  but  its  commerce 
went  on  though  under  foreign  flags.  Its  farms  and  facto- 
ries and  shops  and  colleges  were  full  and  flourishing.  The 
equipment  and  supply  of  the  armies  created  temporary 
activities ;  general  business  throve ;  the  expansion  of  the 
currency  gave  a  feverish  activity  to  trade.  Great  for- 
tunes were  made  out  of  army  contracts,  honestly  and 
dishonestly ;  and  the  poor  cloth  sometimes  furnished  for 
uniforms  gave  a  new  name,  "  shoddy,"  for  sudden  and 
ill-gotten  wealth.  The  volunteers  of  the  early  years  were 
largely  from  the  best  class  of  citizens;  but  as  the  supply 
of  such  recruits  slackened,  recourse  was  had  to  large 
bounties;  forced  drafts  were  made;  and  the  men  thus  en- 
rolled, and  those  who  enlisted  for  the  high  pay,  were  of 
an  inferior  class.  Politics  became  more  passionate  than 
rational,  and  a  class  of  politicians  flourished  who  traded 
on  passions  which  they  did  not  share. 

But  in  its  broad  aspect  it  was  an  ennobling  period. 
Men  learned  to  live  for  something  larger  than  self.    The 


THE   CIVIL   WAE.  345 

air  was  charged  with  a  religion  which  made  men  willing 
to  die  for  men.  Life  was  exalted.  Its  outlook  was  wider, 
its  temper  more  heroic.  Men  woke  to  consciousness  of  the 
higher  relationships, — they  felt  as  never  before  that 

"  'Tis  not  the  whole  of  life  to  Hve, 
Nor  all  of  death  to  die." 

No  state  took  a  heavier  share  of  the  common  burden, 
and  none  was  more  forward  and  resolute  to  push  the 
war  to  the  highest  issues,  than  Massachusetts.  She  con- 
tributed none  of  the  great  commanders,  but  the  Massa- 
chusetts regiments  were  always  recognized  as  among  the 
finest  material  in  the  Northern  armies.  The  high  intelli- 
gence of  the  rank  and  file  made  them  easily  amenable  to 
discipline.  There  was  a  brain  and  a  conscience  behind 
every  musket.  The  proudest  historic  names  were  on  the 
muster-rolls.  In  its  politics  the  state  was  more  than 
Republican, —  it  was  Radical.  Its  representative  public 
men  were  such  as  Andrew  and  Sumner.  The  tide  of 
patriotism  lifted  people  above  the  barriers  of  sect.  In 
communities  like  Springfield,  where  a  social  partition 
line  had  run  between  Orthodox  and  Liberals,  it  almost 
disappeared  when  men  of  the  different  churches  shoul- 
dered their  muskets  in  the  same  ranks,  while  at  home 
their  wives  and  sisters  were  working  together  to  provide 
supplies  or  raise  funds  for  the  Sanitary  Commission. 
The  humanitarian  spirit  in  literature  assumed  a  new 
form.  For  many  years,  poets  and  reformers  had  decried 
war  as  much  as  slavery.  Now  Humanity  Avas  seen  as  a 
warrior  goddess.  Emerson  and  Holmes  and  Whittier  sang 
battle-songs ;  Hosea  Biglow's  verse  no  longer  satirized 
war,  but  was  charged  with  the  passion  of  those  who 
fought  and  the  pathos  of  those  who  watched. 

The  higher  life  of  the  nation  in  the  war  was  epitomized 
in  Abraham  Lincoln.    With  all  his  heart  he  loved  peace 


346     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

and  abhorred  violence.  His  whole  instinct  was  to  govern 
by  appeal  to  right  and  reason.  But  when  the  higher 
powers  had  set  the  great  issue  to  be  tried  by  the  ordeal 
of  battle,  his  resolution  was  inexorable,  his  patience  inex- 
haustible. The  joy  of  combat  was  foreign  to  his  nature. 
It  was  the  suffering  of  the  people,  as  much  as  his  own 
responsibilities,  that  furrowed  his  face  with  wrinkles. 
He  scarcely  felt  the  conscious  thrill  of  victory  before 
he  bent  every  energy  to  heal  the  wounds  of  war.  He 
had  grown  and  lived  among  the  hardest  materialities  of 
the  West,  and  amid  the  selfishness  and  pettiness  of 
practical  politics.  He  had  an  easy-going  tolerance  for 
men  and  practices  far  below  the  ideal  standard.  Yet  the 
bed-rock  of  the  man  was  moral  fidelity.  His  was  a 
careful  and  considerate  conscience,  guided  by  reason, 
amenable  to  logic,  scrupulous  to  look  well  at  all  sides  of 
a  question.  He  was  thoroughly  teachable;  he  listened 
to  every  speaker ;  he  let  the  preachers  preach  to  him, 
and  gave  his  ear  to  statesmen  of  every  shade  of  opinion ; 
he  talked  freely  with  plain  men  and  women ;  he  con- 
sulted Sumner,  as  the  barometer  of  the  nation's  con- 
science ;  he  turned  to  Seward's  diplomacy  when  a  foreign 
complication  was  to  be  averted ;  he  utilized  the  fiery 
energy  of  Stanton  and  the  financial  genius  of  Chase. 
His  administration  in  its  details  was  under  a  perpetual 
storm  of  criticism,  but  the  people  never  doubted  that  an 
honest  man  was  at  the  head  of  the  government ;  and  his 
homely  common  sense,  his  humanity,  his  humor,  won  for 
him  more  and  more  their  trust  and  love.  By  nature 
deficient  in  that  faith  which  is  buoyant  confidence,  he 
was  rooted  in  that  deeper  faith  which  is  unswerving 
fidelity.  Accustomed  to  guide  himself  by  logic  and  by 
the  outward  sight,  rather  than  by  spiritual  vision,  there 
grew  in  him  under  the  schooling  of  events  an  awed  sense 
of  some  divinity  guiding  the  affairs  of  men.    His  service 


THE   CIVIL   WAE.  347 

to  his  country  was  perfected  by  his  death.  Martyrdom 
gave  to  his  worn  and  homely  figm*e  the  last  touch  of 
radiance  in  the  eyes  of  his  countrymen.  A  nation's 
highest  treasures  are  the  heroes  in  whom  something  of 
ideal  greatness  is  realized,  and  who  become  the  guides 
and  prophets  of  its  future.  The  greatest  of  America's 
servants  to-day  is  Abraham  Lincoln,  as  he  lives  in  the 
hearts  of  the  people. 

To  trace  in  detail  the  story  of  the  war  is  a  task  which 
does  not  belong  to  these  pages,  save  at  the  points  of  special 
contact  with  the  history  of  the  Republican.  Americans 
never  read  their  newspapers  so  eagerly  as  in  those  days. 
Every  household  had  either  members  or  friends  in  the 
ranks  of  the  armies.  "Women  were  concerned  no  less 
deeply  than  men  in  the  war,  shared  vicariously  in  its  worst 
sufferings,  made  its  greatest  sacrifices,  and  breathlessly 
watched  its  daily  fortunes.  The  newspaper  was  the  me- 
dium through  which  all  these  anxious  hearts  looked  out  on 
the  strife.  So  newspapers  as  a  class  prospered  and  grew. 
The  RepuUkan  prospered,  though  its  limited  means  for- 
bade any  such  splendid  enterprises  of  news-gathering  as 
the  great  city  journals  achieved.  The  New  York  Herald  is 
said  to  have  spent  half  a  million  dollars  for  its  war  news. 
The  Republican  could  afford  no  "  special  war  correspond- 
ents." It  had  occasionally  a  soldier's  letter ;  and  it  had 
one  series  that  ran  through  the  whole  war,  in  which, 
under  the  name  of  "  Dunn  Brown,"  Rev.  Samuel  Fiske, 
who  served  in  the  ranks  of  a  Massachusetts  regiment, 
described  his  experiences  in  a  pithy,  off-hand  style,  full 
of  spirit  and  humor  and  color.  But  the  leading  feature 
of  the  paper  was  the  daily  report  of  the  various  cam- 
paigns, a  story  read  then  with  breathless  interest,  but 
which  is  now  to  be  studied  as  it  has  been  winnowed  and 
condensed  into  histories  of  the  war. 


348     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

The  effect  of  the  war  while  it  lasted  was  to  magnify 
the  function  of  news-giving  and  relatively  lessen  that  of 
shaping  opinion.  Fighting  once  begun,  the  people  needed 
little  leadership  except  in  the  field  and  the  cabinet.  The 
press  scarcely  needed  to  give  education,  beyond  the  story 
of  what  was  passing.  Such  other  education  as  was  needed 
was  not  so  much  the  imparting  of  new  ideas  as  the  artic- 
ulate expression  of  those  sentiments  which  already  lay 
more  or  less  clearly  in  the  readers'  minds.  "When  the 
nation  was  nerving  itself  for  the  final  effort,  the  Repub- 
lican (August  27.  1864)  said  of  ''  The  Journalist  as  a 
Leader " : 

"  His  power  does  not  lie  wholly  or  chiefly  in  the  ability  to 
convince  or  the  gift  to  persuade.  He  has  marvelous  resource 
in  the  mere  power  of  expression.  There  is  virtue  enough  at 
this  hour  in  the  yeomanry  of  our  country  to  save  it,  but  it  is 
dumb.  It  is  his  duty  to  give  it  voice.  Heroism  unuttered  is 
robbed  of  half  its  force.  .  .  .  The  joumahst  can  unite  all 
those  who  have  high  and  generous  thoughts,  even  though  they 
may  have  them  unconsciously,  by  giving  utterance  to  those 
thoughts,  by  making  his  readers  feel  that  thrill  of  sjmipathy 
with  the  virtue  of  others  which  shall  quicken  their  own.  There 
is  a  world  of  self-sacrifice,  of  endurance,  of  resolve  in  the 
masses,  to  which  the  leader  has  only  to  appeal.  Their  very 
silence  is  listening  for  his  voice.  Their  voiceless  thought  is  a 
sword  which  it  is  his  i^rivilege  to  unsheathe.  Their  coiu-age 
and  self-devotion  are  motive  forces  like  steam  or  water  power, 
waiting  for  his  pen  as  for  the  machinist's  hand  to  bid  them  put 
their  shoulder  to  the  wheel. 

"  The  vast  majority  in  this  country  are  men  of  moderate 
means  and  simple  habits,  to  whom  the  interests  of  labor  and 
the  rights  of  mere  manhood  are  vital.  It  is  of  the  first  impor- 
tance to  them  that  this  war  should  close  not  by  concession  or 
compromise,  but  by  the  victory  of  the  right.  Inured  to  hard- 
ship and  privation,  their  whole  life  is  a  moral  tonic  that  has 
strengthened  them  for  the  hour.  They  have  muscle  enough  to 
fight  their  battle,  they  have  thrift  enough  out  of  their  modest 


THE   CIVIL   WAE.  349 

industry  to  pay  its  cost,  they  have  energy  enough  to  use  their 
resources  effectively  and  well.  They  want  merely  that  the 
press  should  be  true  to  its  mission,  to  lead  them  to  the  charge. 
Men  of  action,  they  wait  for  the  men  of  words.  Let  them  not 
wait  in  vain." 

The  Repnhlicati  did  its  own  part  manfully  and  well.  It 
reflected  and  expressed  the  unfaltering  determination 
with  which  the  people  of  Massachusetts,  like  those  of  the 
whole  of  the  North,  carried  through  the  costly  work  of 
the  war.  Its  instinct  toward  criticism  and  extreme  inde- 
pendence was  subordinated  to  the  great  necessities  of  the 
time.  It  not  only  upheld  without  faltering  the  Union 
and  the  war;  it  supported  with  equal  steadiness  the 
government  of  President  Lincoln.  In  that  government 
there  was  a  great  deal  to  provoke  criticism.  A  peace- 
maker \>y  every  instinct  of  his  nature,  and  almost  wholly 
without  administrative  experience,  Lincoln  found  himself 
the  nation's  captain  in  a  gigantic  war,  and  the  chief 
administrator  in  a  governmental  system  the  work  of 
which  had  been  suddenly  and  immensely  increased. 
Military  interests  sometimes  suffered  because  the  supreme 
commander  was  a  civilian  and  a  politician.  There  were 
mistakes  and  groping  and  terrible  waste  of  resource. 
The  heaviest  burden  of  the  nation  was  that  its  toils 
and  sacrifices  seemed  so  often  thrown  away  by  bad  gen- 
eralship. The  President  underwent  fierce  and  frequent 
criticism.  But  the  mass  of  the  people  stood  by  him 
through  aU,  because  they  were  certain  of  his  patriotism 
and  his  honesty.  The  Repullican  stood  by  him  always. 
He  had  none  of  that  brilliancy  and  magnetism  which 
were  apt,  as  in  the  case  of  Douglas,  to  win  the  paper's 
sympathies ;  his  faults  were  often  those  of  slowness 
and  hesitation,  with  which  it  was  not  wont  to  have 
patience.  But,  because  it  recognized  his  entire  moral 
soundness,  and  his  position  as  necessary  leader  in  the 


350     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

great  work  in  hand,  it  supported  him  through  evil  and 
good  report. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  write  any  detailed  history  of  the 
opinions  expressed  by  the  Republican  in  those  years :  it 
will  be  enough  to  outline  its  course  on  two  subjects — 
slavery  and  party  politics.  That  stumbling-block  of 
intelligent  consciences,  the  conflict  between  the  legal  and 
moral  aspects  of  slavery,  passed  out  of  sight  while  seces- 
sion gathered  to  a  head,  and  in  the  outbreak  and  first 
shock  of  the  war;  and  then  it  reappeared.  The  first 
object  of  the  war  was  to  put  down  the  rebellion  and 
restore  the  authority  of  the  government.  That  was  the 
view  which  Lincoln  maintained.  But  soon  a  sentiment 
found  expression  that  the  war  should  be  openly  directed 
against  slavery  as  well  as  against  the  rebellion ;  that  it 
should  be  made  avowedly  a  war  for  emancipation.  This 
sentiment  was  strong  in  Massachusetts  and  in  many 
parts  of  the  North.  The  old  Abolitionists  and  anti- 
slavery  men  were  reenforced  by  others  who  thought  that 
the  former  legal  rights  of  slavery  had  been  canceled  by 
the  slave-holders'  rebellion.  In  opposition  to  these,  the 
President  for  a  time,  and  the  more  conservative  of  the 
Republicans,  as  well  as  the  entire  Democracy,  maintained 
that  the  sole  object  of  the  war  was  to  restore  the  suprem- 
acy of  the  Constitution,  and  bring  back  the  insurgent 
communities  to  their  former  status ;  and  that  the  obliga- 
tions of  the  Constitution  regarding  slavery  and  all  other 
matters  were  in  no  whit  impaired  by  the  defection  of 
one  section  from  its  allegiance.  This  view  was  held  for 
a  time  by  the  Bepublican.  It  thus  argued  the  matter, 
October  2,  1861,  under  the  heading  "  Shall  it  be  a  war  of 
emancipation  ? " 

''  About  half  the  sermons  preached  on  the  late  day  of  National 
Fast — and  by  the  leading  city  preachers,  who  are  accounted 


THE   CIVIL   WAK.  351 

the  representative  men  of  the  various  sects — assume  that  God 
requires  that  the  war  should  be  made  a  war  of  emancipation, 
as  a  condition  of  success,  and  that  the  defeats  and  failures 
hitherto  encountered  are  in  consequence  of  the  neglect  of  gov- 
ernment to  fulfill  this  condition.  Not  Dr.  Cheever  alone,  but 
Dr.  Bacon,  Dr.  Cleveland,  Dr.  Tyng,  Dr.  Bellows,  and  a  host  of 
other  titled  and  untitled  divines,  of  all  denominations,  took  the 
same  view.  .  .  .  Let  us  not  rashly  accept  a  conclusion 
invoh-ing  such  tremendous  consequences.  If  we  adopt  it,  the 
war  is  no  longer  a  war  for  the  Constitution  and  the  Union.  It 
sets  aside  the  Constitution ;  it  is  a  counter-revolution  at  the 
North  against  the  revolution  at  the  South.  It  releases  the 
South  from  its  constitutional  obhgations  and  makes  the  contest 
one  of  sections  and  institutions."  Those,  says  the  paper,  who 
beheve  that  the  Constitution  is  "  a  covenant  with  death  and  an 
agi'eement  with  hell "  may  consistently  call  for  a  war  of  eman- 
cipation. "  But  those  who  adhere  to  the  Constitution  and  the 
laws,  and  seek  the  restoration  of  the  Union  as  the  fathers  made 
it,  can  join  in  no  such  revolutionary  cry.  .  ,  .  This  is 
neither  the  time  to  discuss  amendments  to  the  Constitution, 
nor  to  violate  any  of  its  existing  pro\'isions.  If  it  were  certain 
that  the  rebels  could  be  more  easily  subjugated,  as  some  con- 
fidently assert,  by  proclaiming  general  emancipation,  we  are  to 
remember  that  it  is  characteristic  of  the  just  man  (and  the  just 
nation  as  well)  that  '  he  sweareth  to  his  own  hurt  and  changeth 
not.'  .  .  .  It  is  taken  for  granted  by  the  divines  who  have 
furnished  us  a  text,  that  God  designs  the  damage  and  destruc- 
tion of  slavery  by  this  war.  We  hope  so.  But  let  us  follow 
Providence  instead  of  undertaking  to  dictate  or  dii-ect  its 
course.  The  struggle  that  is  upon  us  opens  daily  with  wider 
scope  and  greater  power,  and  the  more  extensive  and  formida- 
ble it  becomes  the  gi'eater  will  be  its  effect  upon  the  monstrous 
social  crime  in  which  the  rebellion  has  had  its  origin  and  from 
which  it  derives  its  mahgnant  spirit.  We  need  not  fear  that  it 
will  not  be  sufficiently  damaged  if  we  adhere  with  unflinching 
fidehty  to  our  constitutional  obhgations ;  and  the  supposition 
that  we  need  to  break  our  oaths,  and  to  violate  the  very  instru- 
ment in  defense  of  which  we  fight,  in  order  to  assist  the  divine 


352     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

plan,  shows  distrust  rather  than  confidence  in  the  power  of 
Providence  to  accomphsh  its  own  ends.  No, —  let  us  walk 
firmly  on  the  straight  line  of  duty  and  right,  and  trust  God  for 

results." 

It  is  unnecessary  to  elaborate  here  the  objections  urged 
against  this  view  :  —  that  it  was  very  tender  of  the  tech- 
nical rights  of  the  master,  and  wholly  oblivious  of  the 
moral  rights  of  the  slave ;  that  the  familiar  plea  of  the 
legalist  against  the  humanitarian  was  out  of  place  when 
final  appeal  had  been  taken  to  the  arbitrament  of  force  ; 
and  that  it  was  an  odd  interpretation  of  a  man's  consti- 
tutional rights  which  allowed  you  to  shoot  him,  but  for- 
bade you  to  set  free  his  slaves. 

As  the  war  went  on,  the  question  of  slavery  in  various 
practical  aspects  was  forced  upon  the  government,  which 
for  a  time  decided  questions  of  detail  in  favor  of  liberty, 
while  avoiding  any  sweeping  measures.  The  return  to 
their  masters  of  slaves  who  came  within  the  lines  of  the 
Union  armies  was  forbidden.  Slaves  actually  employed 
in  the  service  of  the  rebellion  were  declared  free.  Then 
Congress  enacted  that  all  slaves  owned  by  rebels  or  the 
aiders  and  abettors  of  rebels  should  be  free  as  soon  as 
they  were  included  within  the  lines  of  our  armies.  But 
when  General  Fremont  in  Missouri,  and  afterward  Gen- 
eral Hunter  in  South  Carolina,  issued  proclamations  of 
freedom  to  all  slaves  of  rebels  within  those  states,  the 
President  disapproved  and  canceled  their  action.  Event- 
ually, a  vehement  pressure  was  brought  to  bear  upon  the 
President  to  declare  all  slaves  of  rebels  free,  by  virtue  of 
his  military  authority,  as  a  measure  necessary  to  the  suc- 
cessful prosecution  of  the  war.  During  the  summer  of 
1862  the  more  radical  Republicans  plied  the  President  with 
all  forms  of  importunity  and  sometimes  with  reproach 
and  invective.  The  Repuhlican  opposed  this  demand  as 
unnecessary  and  useless.     It  said,  August  30,  1862 : 


THE   CIVIL   WAE.  353 

"  The  gist  of  the  whole  case  is  this :  we  have  emancipation 
by  law ;  the  law  wiU  be  enforced  and  the  slaves  freed  as  fast  as 
the  armies  penetrate  the  Southern  section  ;  a  proclamation  of 
military  emancipation  could  be  enforced  no  farther, —  therefore 
there  is  no  real  foundation  for  the  issue  which  some  of  the 
Repubhcans  attempt  to  raise  against  the  President,  and  the 
only  way  in  which  General  Fremont  and  the  rest  of  us  can  help 
enforce  the  law  and  free  the  slaves  is  to  go  into  the  field  and 
defeat  the  armies  of  the  Rebellion.  Every  victory  is  a  victory 
over  slavery.  Every  victory  is  a  grand  proclamation  and  act 
of  emancij)ation.  We  have  emancipation  as  a  law.  The  mus- 
ket and  the  cannon  must  enforce  it.  .  .  .  If  emancipation 
is  proclaimed  as  a  war  measure,  it  can  be  reahzed  as  a  fact  only 
as  fast  as  the  adverse  section  is  subdued,  and  thus  much  is 
already  secured  by  the  act  of  Congress.  Neither  laws  nor 
proclamations  execute  themselves." 

Lincoln  meanwhile  was  anxiously  brooding  over  the 
question  whether  the  war  should  be  directed  against 
slavery.  His  moral  repugnance  to  slavery,  and  his  oath 
to  maintain  the  Constitution; — the  people's  will  as  inter- 
preted now  by  enthusiasts  like  Sumner  and  Phillips,  now 
by  the  Conservatives; — the  need  to  satisfy  the  Northern 
conscience,  the  need  to  hold  the  loyalists  of  the  border 
states,  —  these  were  the  conflicting  considerations  with 
which  his  mind  was  laboring.  At  last  he  reached  a  con- 
clusion, which  he  shared  with  no  counselor,  until  he  read 
to  his  cabinet  the  proclamation  of  freedom,  and  told  them 
his  purpose  was  fixed.  The  supreme  constitutional  duty, 
he  reasoned,  was  to  save  the  nation's  life.  The  rebellion 
which  imperiled  that  life  was  supported  by  the  labors  of 
four  million  slaves :  to  declare  freedom  to  the  slaves 
was  to  strike  at  the  sinews  of  the  rebelliou,  and  was  thus 
justifiable  as  a  military  necessity.  That  was  the  logic  he 
used  with  himself  and  with  the  nation  ;  but  an  instinct 
finer  than  logic  told  him  that  the  hour  was  come,  and 
that  the  people  would  support  him  in  abolishing  the 
Vol.  I.— 23 


354     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

great  wrong.  On  the  23d  of  September,  1862,  appeared 
the  proclamation  of  emancipation.  It  was  moderate  and 
guarded  ;  three  months  were  allowed  the  rebels  to  return 
to  their  allegiance  before  the  final  decree  of  freedom 
should  be  issued ;  it  was  to  apply,  if  issued,  only  to  the 
communities  in  actual  rebellion;  and  it  was  based  on 
grounds  not  of  absolute  right,  but  of  military  necessity. 
But  it  pledged  the  government,  at  a  near  date  and  upon 
a  contingency  almost  sure  to  be  realized,  to  maintain  the 
freedom  of  the  great  body  of  the  slaves.  The  President 
when  he  issued  it  declared  in  effect  that  the  war  was  to 
be  for  emancipation  as  well  as  for  the  Union.  His  action 
temporarily  weakened  his  party ;  it  helped  to  give  New 
York  to  the  Democrats ;  it  shook  the  loyalty  of  many 
Unionists  in  the  border  states.  It  did  not  impair  by  a 
man  or  a  musket  the  fighting  force  of  the  South.  The 
slaves  took  no  advantage  of  their  new  theoretical  rights, 
until  their  masters  were  conqiiered  by  the  Northern 
armies.  But  the  proclamation  declared  to  the  world 
that  the  contest  was  for  human  freedom.  It  formally 
invoked  to  the  Union  cause  the  mightiest  ally, —  the 
justice  of  men  and  of  God. 

The  Bepuhlican  welcomed  the  proclamation  heartily,  if 
not  with  entire  consistency.     It  said,  September  24  : 

"  The  President's  action  is  timely  —  neither  too  soon  nor  too 
late.  It  is  thorough  —  neither  defeating  itself  by  half-way 
measures  nor  by  passionate  excess.  It  is  just  and  magnan- 
imous—  doing  no  wrong  to  any  loyal  man,  and  offering 
no  needless  exasperation  to  the  disloyal.  It  is  practical  and 
effective  —  attempting  neither  too  little  nor  too  much.  And 
it  will  be  sustained  by  the  great  mass  of  the  loyal  peojile,  North 
and  South;  and  thus,  by  the  courage  and  prudence  of  the 
President,  the  greatest  social  and  political  revolution  of  the 
age  will  be  triumphantly  carried  through  in  the  midst  of  a 
civil  war." 


THE   CIVIL   WAE.  355 

Wlien,  with  the  opening  of  1863,  the  final  decree  of 
freedom  was  issued,  the  Bepublicaii's  comment  was : 

"  Theoretically  we  are  pursuiiig  emancipation  as  a  means ; 
practically  we  are  pursuing  it  as  an  end.  Practically  we  must 
pui-sue  it  as  an  end,  until  the  end  come.  .  .  .  Let  every 
loyal  man  feel  grateful  that  he  has  two  good  and  great  ends  to 
look  for  and  to  fight  for,  instead  of  one." 

The  course  of  party  politics  requires  notice.  In  the 
first  summer  of  the  war,  with  the  autumn  elections  in 
view,  the  RepuhUcan  strongly  lU'ged  that  old  party  lines 
be  ignored,  and  no  issue  recognized  save  the  prosecu- 
tion of  the  war  and  the  maintenance  of  the  Union.  It 
pleaded  that  the  issue  of  "  no  slavery  in  the  territories," 
which  had  furnished  the  central  article  of  Republican 
doctrine,  had  been  completely  submerged  by  the  greater 
issue  of  the  war.  It  called  for  a  union  of  men  of  all 
parties  upon  that  single  question.  The  response  to  this 
was  very  wide  and  very  hearty.  The  chief  of  the  Demo- 
cratic leaders  were  ready  to  agree.  The  Boston  Post.,  Ben- 
jamin F.  HaUett,  and  even  Caleb  Gushing,  were  strongly 
in  favor  of  waiving  party  lines  in  support  of  the  govern- 
ment. The  call  for  the  Republican  convention  had  been 
worded  in  very  liberal  terms,  but  it  was  issued  by  the 
party  committee,  and  the  purpose  was  manifest  to  secure 
the  renomination  substantially  of  the  party  ticket.  In 
both  parties  the  professional  politicians  controlled  "  the 
machine,"  and  the  desire  of  the  people  for  an  unpartisan 
union  lacked  practical  leadership.  The  Bepuhlican  made 
the  novel  suggestion  that  in  the  emergency  the  editors  of 
the  Boston  daily  papers  should  issue  a  call  for  a  Union 
convention,  which  would  cut  the  ground  from  under  the 
feet  of  the  old  parties.  But  Boston  journalists,  who  had 
never  agreed  upon  any  point,  could  hardly  be  expected 
to  agree  upon  this.    For  one  of  them  to  suggest  such  a 


356     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BO^XES. 

convention  Tvould  have  been  enough  to  secure  the  opposi- 
tion of  all  the  others.  The  party  organizations  were  main- 
tained. The  Democrats  met  first,  and,  in  the  absence  of 
their  ablest  leaders, —  Butler  being  in  the  war,  and  Hallett 
and  Gushing  absent, —  a  set  of  small  men  managed  the 
convention,  adopted  strong  Union  resolutions,  but  de- 
nounced the  Republican  party  and  took  a  highly  partisan 
tone.  The  Republican  convention,  under  the  presidency 
of  ^Ir.  Dawes,  was  both  patriotic  and  catholic  in  its 
spirit ;  Governor  Andrew  was  renominated  with  enthu- 
siasm, and  places  on  the  ticket  were  given  to  a  Demo- 
crat and  a  Bell-Everett  man, —  both  of  whom  ultimately 
declining,  the  nominations  were  bestowed  upon  Repub- 
licans. The  convention's  temper  and  action  were  praised 
by  the  RepuhJican,  but  with  regret  that  no  escape  had 
been  found  from  a  party  contest.  The  election  that 
followed  was  spiritless,  but  Governor  Andrew  and  his 
associates  were  chosen  by  a  majority  of  3-1,000  —  two  to 
one. 

In  Xew  York  there  was  in  1861  a  Union  ticket,  headed 
by  an  old  Democrat,  Daniel  S.  Dickinson,  which  defeated 
by  a  great  majority  a  partisan  Democratic  opposition. 
In  other  states,  then  and  afterward,  during  the  war, 
there  were  some  similar  fusions.  But  in  general  the  two 
parties  kept  up  their  organizations. 

In  the  autumn  of  1862, —  a  time  of  general  discom-age- 
ment, —  the  Democrats  carried  New  York  by  a  close 
vote,  electing  Horatio  Seymour  governor.  Pennsylvania, 
New  Jersey,  Ohio,  Indiana,  and  Illinois  gave  small  Dem- 
ocratic majorities.  The  Republicans  had  a  reduced  ma- 
jority in  the  national  House,  and  the  Senate  was  still 
theii's  by  four  to  one.  The  Democracy  in  general  main- 
tained throughout  the  war  an  attitude  of  protest  against 
the  Administration  for  errors  and  usurpations,  and  for 
its  growing  tendency  to  an  emancipation  policy.     The 


THE   CIVIL   WAK.  357 

tone  of  Democratic  speeches,  newspapers,  and  conven- 
tions varied  according  to  time  and  place  from  stanch 
support  of  the  war  to  denunciation  of  it.  The  "War 
Democrats"  sometimes  voted  for  the  Republican  candi- 
dates, sometimes  carried  their  own  party  for  the  war  and 
for  a  merely  legitimate  criticism  of  the  Administration. 
Whatever  there  was  at  the  North  of  sympathy  with  the 
Southern  cause  allied  itself  with  the  Democracy,  and 
sometimes  controlled  it,  as  when  Fernando  Wood  was 
a  magnate  in  New  York  City,  or  when  Vallandigham 
led  his  party  to  overwhelming  defeat  in  Ohio  in  1863. 
That  the  Democrats  as  a  body  were  disloyal  is  disproved 
by  abundant  facts.  The  great  state  of  New  York  was 
governed  by  that  party  during  the  latter  half  of  the 
war,  and  in  the  presidential  election  of  1864  the  party 
cast  forty-five  per  cent,  of  the  popular  vote  of  the  coun- 
try. But  whatever  there  was  of  devotion  to  universal 
freedom,  and  of  unreserved  allegiance  to  the  national 
cause,  found  its  most  congenial  place  among  the  Repub- 
licans. To  most  members  of  that  party,  its  success 
became  identified  with  that  of  Union  and  freedom ;  the 
whole  passion  and  fervor  of  the  war-time  assured  their 
party  fidelity ;  and  it  was  in  those  years  that  the  party 
name  became  so  dear  to  the  hearts  of  earnest  men,  that 
its  ascendency  was  safe,  against  whatever  errors  it  might 
commit,  until  a  large  part  of  that  generation  should  have 
passed  away. 

In  the  summer  and  autumn  of  1862,  when  Mr.  Bowles 
was  in  Europe,  and  the  paper  was  under  Dr.  Holland's 
control,  it  came  into  an  attitude  of  pronounced  hostility 
to  the  management  of  the  Republican  party  in  the  state. 
The  radical  element  of  the  party  were  in  the  ascendant, 
and  Sumner  was  their  hero.  There  was  among  them, 
before  the  emancipation  proclamation,  a  very  critical 
disposition  toward  Lincoln.    The  state  convention  in  its 


358     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

resolutions  said  not  a  word  in  commendation  of  the 
national  Administration,  and  lavished  all  its  praises  on 
Senators  Sumner  and  Wilson.  The  Bepublican  declared 
in  great  disgust  that  the  convention  had  been  managed 
exclusively  with  a  view  to  Sumner's  reelection.  That 
reelection  it  opposed.  It  declared  that  Sumner  was  a  man 
of  but  one  idea;  that  as  a  practical  legislator  he  was 
gravely  deficient ;  that  Massachusetts  desired  no  senator 
who  was  not  thoroughly  anti-slavery,  but  that  she  also 
wanted  a  man  of  broad  views  and  business  capacity. 
Throughout  the  state  there  was  a  good  deal  of  sentiment 
unfavorable  to  the  dominant  radicalism.  It  took  form 
in  a  "People's  convention," — a  kind  of  last  rally  of  old- 
fashioned,  highly  respectable  Massachusetts  conserva- 
tism. It  nominated  General  Devens  for  governor,  and 
Charles  Francis  Adams  for  senator.  But  the  Democrats 
damned  the  movement  by  indorsing  its  candidates,  while 
resolving  against  "  secession  and  abolition "  as  equal 
evils,  denouncing  emancipation  "  in  the  name  of  civil- 
ized humanity,"  and  opposing  pretty  much  everything 
that  the  best  people  of  the  country  had  at  heart.  The 
name  of  Mr.  Adams — absent  as  minister  to  England  — 
was  promptly  withdrawn  by  his  son  John  Quincy,  in 
accordance  with  his  father's  previously  expressed  wishes. 
The  Mepiiblican,  which  had  been  sympathetic  toward  the 
People's  movement,  though  never  fully  committed  to  it, 
gave  it  up  on  seeing  the  sort  of  alliance  which  it  received 
from  the  Democrats.  It  expressed  a  preference  for  Mr. 
Sumner  over  "  any  man  who  is  likely  to  be  nominated 
against  him,"  and  for  the  Republican  ticket  as  represent- 
ing a  better  cause  than  its  rival,  while  it  continued  to 
protest  against  the  folly  of  party  divisions  at  such  a 
time.  At  the  state  election  the  Republicans  kept  their 
old  advantage. 


THE   CIVIL   WAE.  359 

Mr.  Bowles  spoke  afterward  in  private  with  strong 
regret  of  the  course  of  the  Repuhlican  in  opposing  Sum- 
nei-'s  reelection.  The  hand  of  the  chief  soon  appears  in 
the  paper  after  his  return  in  November,  1862;  it  becomes 
broader  and  calmer  in  its  tone,  with  more  of  news  and 
variety.  From  this  time  on,  it  was  to  be  counted  with 
the  progressive  rather  than  the  conservative  element  of 
the  Republican  party.  It  had  felt  the  teaching  of  the 
times.  Its  chief  had  brought  back  from  his  half-year  of 
exile  a  fuller  health,  a  broader  and  calmer  vision,  a  finer 
sensitiveness  to  moral  elements.  The  next  chapter,  giv- 
ing his  European  letters,  will  show  how  he  chafed  at 
being  absent  in  the  crisis  of  the  nation's  struggle ;  but 
that  absence,  with  its  rest  for  body  and  mind,  its  long 
and  silent  musings,  its  new  perspective  of  events,  served 
as  a  preparation  for  the  higher  leadership  he  was  to  take 
in  the  new  era  of  the  nation. 

The  Republican  was  in  harmony  with  the  Republican 
party  during  the  state  election  of  the  next  year ;  there 
being  little  controversy,  and  Governor  Andrew  being 
chosen  again,  by  a  vote  of  more  than  two  to  one.  But 
the  paper  exhibited  its  independence  by  opposing  some 
of  the  party  nominations  for  the  legislature,  supporting 
in  one  case  a  Democrat,  and  in  another  Daniel  L.  Harris, 
a  bolting  Republican.  In  local  elections  its  advice  always 
was  to  vote  for  the  best  man,  on  whatever  ticket  his  name 
might  be  found. 

The  Democratic  National  Convention  of  1864,  which 
met  at  Chicago  in  August,  contradicted  itself.  By  its 
nomination  for  president,  it  approved  the  prosecution 
of  the  war :  by  its  resolutions,  it  advocated  peace.  Gen- 
eral McClellan  was  an  excellent  representative  of  the  war 
Democrats.  He  was  an  undoubted  Unionist;  he  had 
shown  high  merits  in  the  field ;  and  he  had  suffered  from 


360     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

the  Administration  a  damaging  interference  with  his 
military  operations,  and  finally,  in  consequence  probably 
of  his  open  hostility  to  the  President's  emancipation 
policy,  a  removal  from  command.  The  resolutions  upheld 
the  Union  and  the  Constitution,  but  mainly  complained  of 
the  usurpations  of  the  Administration,  and  disapproved 
of  the  continuance  of  the  war.  They  called  for  an  im- 
mediate armistice,  to  be  followed  by  a  convention  of  the 
states,  or  other  peaceable  measures  for  the  restoration  of 
the  Union.  McClellan,  in  accepting  the  nomination, 
ignored  the  platform,  and  declared  strongly  for  the  per- 
sistent maintenance  of  the  Union.  His  associate  on  the 
ticket  was  George  H.  Pendleton,  of  Ohio. 

The  only  serious  opposition  to  the  renomination  of 
President  Lincoln  by  the  Republicans  came  from  a  group 
of  captious  Radicals,  who  met  in  convention  and  nomi- 
nated General  Fremont.  He  had  after  the  first  years 
of  the  war  been  kept  out  of  active  service;  by  the  Ad- 
ministration's jealousy  of  him  as  an  emancipationist  and 
a  popular  leader,  said  his  friends ;  by  his  own  false  pride 
and  ambition,  said  others.  His  candidacy  was  soon 
abandoned.  The  Republican  convention,  meeting  at 
Baltimore  in  June,  gave  its  voice  without  division  for 
Lincoln ;  joined  with  him  for  the  second  place  Andrew 
Johnson,  of  Tennessee,  in  recognition  of  the  Southern 
loyalists ;  fully  indorsed  the  emancipation  policy ;  and 
declared  in  favor  of  the  constitutional  abolition  of  slav- 
ery, and  the  prosecution  of  the  war  until  the  rebellion 
was  wholly  subdued. 

The  Republican  (August  2)  summed  up  the  issue  be- 
tween the  parties,  thus  :  Peace,  it  says,  is  sure  to  come 
soon,  but  what  kind  of  a  peace  depends  on  the  presi- 
dential election.  "  Sliall  this  peace  he  what  the  nation  has 
fought  for,  or  what  the  rebels  have  fought  for  ?  This  is 
the  grand  vital  question  of  the  presidential  campaign, 


THE   CIVIL   WAR.  361 

by  the  side  of  ■whicli  all  others  sink  into  nothingness." 
When  McClellan  was  nominated,  it  said  of  him,  Sept.  18  : 

"  With  respectable  talents,  a  pure  character,  and  patriotic 
purposes,  he  is  wanting  in  that  high  moi'al  sense  that  perceives 
the  truest  truth,  and  that  high  moral  courage  that  does  and 
dares  in  its  behalf.  He  waits,  he  hesitates  in  the  presence  of 
great  opportunities ;  he  compronaises  with  time  and  with  truth ; 
and  he  is  no  fit  man  to  deal  with  the  sharp  exigences  and  the 
subhme  occasions  of  this  hour.  He  wants  and  would  try  to 
save  the  country;  but  he  would  hinder  rather  than  help  the 
people,  who  ivill  save  it  in  the  long  run,  despite  their  own 
occasional  fickleness  and  faint-heartedness, —  because  he  fails 
to  see  and  use  quickly  the  moral  and  material  agencies  by  which 
it  is  to  be  saved,  and  because  he  is  no  match  for  the  men  who 
are  bent  on  its  ruin.  .  .  .  The  platform  is  weak  in  words 
and  wicked  in  intention.  It  lacks  vigor,  sharpness,  and  high 
principle.  The  breaking  purpose  shines  through  every  sentence. 
Its  words  for  the  Union  are  hesitating,  guarded,  shuffling ; 
while  its  clamor  for  experiments  that  woidd  endanger  it,  its 
want  of  condemnation  for  those  who  have  struck  at  it,  and  still 
hold  aloft  the  bloody  flag  of  disunion  and  destruction,  and  its 
petty  arraignment  of  those  who  are  wielding  the  power  of  the 
government  to  sustain  and  secure  it,  all  show  that  the  real 
sympathy  of  its  authors  is  with  the  enemies  rather  than  the 
defenders  of  the  Union.  .  .  .  "We  are  very  sure  that  neither 
the  ticket  nor  the  men  who  wiU  vote  for  it  —  all  of  them  —  are 
so  mean  as  their  platform  seems  to  us." 

In  Massachusetts,  Governor  Andrew  was  again  renom- 
inated. The  vigor  and  success  of  his  administration, 
the  great-heartedness  of  the  man,  and  his  popularity  as  a 
'^  war  governor,"  left  no  room  for  successful  rivalry. 
The  presidential  campaign,  somewhat  doubtful  in  the 
early  autumn,  moved  at  the  close  to  a  clearly  foreseen 
result.  Men  cast  their  votes  for  President  Lincoln  less 
under  the  feeling  of  a  doubtful  contest  than  with  a 
solemn  sense  that  the  people  were  accepting  and  ratify- 


362     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

ing  the  prosecution  of  the  war  at  whatever  cost,  till 
union  and  freedom  were  won.  Only  Delaware,  Kentucky, 
and  New  Jersey  gave  their  electoral  votes  for  McClellan. 
In  a  total  of  four  million  votes,  Lincoln  had  a  majority 
of  400,000.  New  York  was  for  him  by  a  narrow  margin 
of  7000  ;  Illinois  by  30,000 ,;  Ohio  by  60,000 ;  and  Massa- 
chusetts led  the  column  with  127,000  for  Lincoln  to 
40,000  for  his  opponent.  The  day  after  the  election, 
November  9,  the  Repuhlican  said : 

"  The  appeal  to  the  avarice  and  cowardice  of  the  people  was 
a  strong  one,  and  it  was  vigorously  plied  by  the  opiDOsition. 
The  burdens  of  the  war  are  fearful,  and  they  are  severely  felt. 
The  people  would  rejoice  with  joy  unspeakable  in  the  restora- 
tion of  peace.  But  they  have  rejected  aU  solicitations  to  a 
premature  and  dishonorable  peace.  They  have  declared  that 
they  prefer  any  sacrifice  of  ease,  property,  life,  to  the  sacrifice 
of  the  Union  and  the  surrender  of  the  nation  to  the  slave-hold- 
ing oligarchy.  The  decision  is  honor  and  safety  to  the  country 
and  to  all  who  have  contributed  to  it. 

"  Let  the  victors  be  magnanimous.  The  great  body  of  the 
Democratic  party  have  meant  well  for  their  country  in  their 
votes  against  the  Administration.  Copperheads  and  sympa- 
thizers with  treason  are  but  a  fraction  of  that  party,  and  the 
party  has  lost  by  its  concessions  to  their  influence.  The  masses 
of  the  Democratic  party  will  stiU  stand  by  the  country,  fight  its 
battles,  and  rejoice  in  its  victories.  Let  their  patriotism  have 
generous  recognition,  and  let  them  still  further  exhibit  and 
attest  it  by  ready  acquiescence  in  the  decision  of  the  majority, 
and  by  cordial  support  of  the  Administration  indorsed  so 
strongly  by  the  people." 

The  completion  of  emancipation,  by  extending  it  over 
the  whole  Union  and  making  it  irrevocable,  had  been 
inaugurated  early  in  1864,  when  the  Senate  passed 
the  Thirteenth  Amendment,  abolishing  slavery.  In  the 
House  it  failed  of  the  necessary  two-thirds  vote.  The 
Republican  National  Convention  insisted  on  "  the  utter 
and  complete  extirpation  of  slavery."    The  EepuUican 


THE   CIVIL   WAE.  363 

declared  (November  10)  that  by  tlie  reelection  of  Lincoln, 
and  yet  more  explicitly  by  the  congressional  elections, 
which  gave  the  party  more  than  two-thii*ds  of  the  House, 
the  destruction  of  slavery  was  assured. 

^'  The  amendment  will  be  adopted  by  the  next  Congress  "  [it 
was  in  fact  adopted  by  the  old  Congress  in  its  final  session], 
"  and  the  people  will  ratify  it  with  eagerness  and  delight  the 
moment  they  can  get  a  chance.  Thus  will  slavery  be  legally 
and  constitutionaUy  abohshed  throughout  this  Union.  This 
I'esult  of  Tuesday's  effort  is  even  more  important  in  its  ultimate 
consequences  than  the  reelection  of  Mr.  Lincoln.  It  is  the  crown- 
ing glory  of  the  peaceful  victory  of  the  day.  It  is  a  triumph 
for  all  time.  It  settles  the  vexed  question  which  has  brought 
war,  bloodshed,  and  debt  upon  the  nation,  and  precludes  the 
possibility  of  another  rebellion  in  behalf  of  slavery.  The  grand 
triumph  is  nearly  completed.    Let  us  thank  God  and  push  on." 

The  political  questions  of  the  time  have  offered  the 
salient  points  for  quotation  and  comment  in  this  chap- 
ter. But  the  war  itself  is  the  great  drama  which  is  seen 
through  the  daily  pages  of  the  newspaper  file  from  April, 
1861,  to  April,  1865.  There  it  aU  stands  vividly  out  —  the 
four  j^ears'  experience  which  so  deeply  impressed  the 
lives  of  all  who  shared  it.  There  is  the  first  eager  and 
passionate  rush  against  the  foe;  there  are  the  first 
defeats,  the  disappointments,  the  perplexities,  the  ever- 
growing sacrifices ;  then  the  deep  breath  of  anticipated 
triumph  when  one  week  saw  Gettysburg  won  at  the  east 
and  Vicksburg  captured  at  the  west ;  the  brightening 
hope ;  then  the  industries  of  peace  recovering  and  multi- 
plying themselves  in  the  midst  of  war;  the  dogged, 
desperate  rally  for  the  last  tug  of  the  Wilderness  and 
Petersburg ;  the  equal  valor  of  North  and  South ;  the 
myriads  of  lives  lost  and  homes  desolated;  the  new 
manliness  wrought  by  heroic  endurance  into  North 
and  South  alike ;  the  birth  of  a  race  into  freedom,  the 
restoration  of  a  people  to  unity. 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

In  Europe. 
To  the  ^'  BepublicMi.''^ 

London,  April  28,  1862. 

ONLY  five  days  have  gone  since  we  landed  at  Liverpool, 
yet  they  seem  as  many  weeks.  .  .  .  It  is  curious  to 
notice  how  many  of  these  EngUshmen  I  seem  to  know  as  old 
acquaintances.  Punch  and  Thackeray  and  Dickens  and  the 
Illustrated  Neios  have  made  one-half  of  them  as  famihar  to  my 
eyes  as  my  home  neighbors.  We  had  a  faint  Lord  Dundreary 
on  the  ship  coming  out.  The  custom-house  officers  that  boarded 
us  in  the  stream  were  unmistakable  as  if  they  had  borne  printed 
labels.  .  .  .  The  village  butcher,  the  magistrate,  the  mem- 
ber of  the  town  council,  the  hotel  waiter,  milord  Tom  Noddy's 
valet  let  loose  for  an  afternoon,  Betsey  the  cook,  and  Mary  the 
chamber-girl,  all  pass  before  you  in  familiar  guise.  You  almost 
unconsciously  nod  your  head  as  they  go  by.  As  yet  I  get  my 
waiters  and  ministers  of  the  estabUshed  church  sadly  mixed  up. 
They  dress  just  alike,  and  so  far  I  have  to  give  the  preference 
for  impressiveness  of  manner  and  mental  alertness  to  the  wait- 
ers. Certainly  a  big  man  in  white  canonicals,  who  mouthed  a 
lot  of  incoherent  stuff  at  a  popular  audience  in  Westminster 
Abbey  last  night,  would  do  the  world  and  his  Maker  better 
service  in  bringing  bread  and  cheese  and  pouring  beer  in  a 
country  inn  than  in  disgusting  and  befogging  people  from  a 
pulpit  in  the  matter  of  the  highest  import  to  their  happiness. 
But  a  shoemaker  I  saw  at  Chester  was  the  very  St.  Crispin 


IN   EDKOPE.  365 

himself,  and  it  was  by  great  effort  of  will  that  I  kept  myself 
from  rushing  m^to  his  arms  as  if  he  had  been  a  "  long-lost 
brother." 

So,  too,  does  Nature  come  to  you  here  iu  half-friendly  and 
familiar  forms.  She  is  new,  yet  old.  She  reproduces  to  your 
mind  the  descriptions  of  poets  and  moralists  that  you  had 
read  and  forgotten  long  ago.  You  look  and  wonder  where  you 
ever  saw  the  same  before ;  confident  you  have,  yet  sure  you 
never  could, —  as  stem  and  strange  events  call  to  mind  a 
di'eam  thereof  not  tiU  then  remembered.  The  wide,  green 
fields, —  greener  far  than  even  'New  England  meadows, — 
bright  with  yellow  cowshp  and  white  daisy ;  the  long  hedge- 
rows of  hawthorn,  sprinkled  often  with  sweet-brier ;  the  hoUy, 
the  yew,  the  dark,  mournful  cypress  and  juniper,  soberly  sway- 
ing in  gi-and  masses  as  if  keeping  time  to  the  slow,  deep 
beatings  of  a  widowed  heart;  the  spreading  bushes  of  the 
rhododendi-ons,  filling  the  ground  for  rods  and  rising  to  ten  or 
fifteen  feet  in  height,  bursting  with  the  buds  of  the  white,  or 
putting  out  the  green  leaves  with  the  wealth  of  scarlet  bloom  ; 
the  parks  of  oak ;  the  Httle  white  cottages,  covered  with  blos- 
soming peas  or  flowering  vines ;  the  low,  dark,  stone  parish 
chiu-ch,  moss-covered  and  ivy-crowned;  the  suiTounding 
church-yard  with  the  low-lying  monuments  of  half  a  dozen 
generations,  gi-ass-grown  and  time-faded,  but  still  hallowed  by 
a  posterity  that  lives  in  the  same  cottages  that  they  lived  in, 
and  will  he  where  they  he  ;  the  long,  narrow  pathways  through 
the  fields  ;  the  stile  where  Mary's  lover  sat  and  sung  for  her, — 
all  "stand  dressed  in  hving  green"  before  you,  and  caU  up 
memories  and  associations  and  persons  that  have  lain  buried 
and  forgotten  for  half  a  life-time.  You  rub  yoiir  eyes,  and  look 
for  the  people  who  ought  to  be  among  the  famihar  scenes, — 
for  Mrs.  Poyser  and  her  children  coming  home  from  church, 
for  Maggie  Tulhver  running  away  to  join  the  gypsies,  for 
Adam  Bede  stalking  sternly  forth  to  his  work  or  to  search  for 
his  lost  Hetty,  for  the  lovers  walking  arm  in  arm  through  the 
fields,  or  sitting  fondly  under  the  hedge,  regardless  of  all  curi- 
ous eyes,  for  the  cruel  gamekeeper  in  pursuit  of  the  skulking 
poacher,  for  the  humble  but  devoted  country  curate  going 


366     THE   LITE   AND   TIMES   OF    SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

about  doing  good,  ''  passing  rich,  on  forty  pounds  a  year." 
They  are  all  here,  and  I  have  seen  some  of  them,  and  shall  see 
the  rest  before  I  leave  England. 

To  his  Wife. 

London,  April  29,  1862. 
I  have  on  the  whole  enjoyed  the  stay  here.  But  I 
am  glad  to  go  away  —  I  should  be  sick  of  it  in  two  days  more. 
I  have  taken  in  a  general  sense  of  the  city,  and  am  indifferent 
about  details.  We  shall  probably  spend  four  or  five  more  days 
here  in  June,  to  see  the  great  Exhibition,  then  complete  and  ia 
order,  the  British  Museum,  Windsor  Castle,  and  one  or  two 
other  specialties ;  and  yet  but  for  the  country  of  England  I 
could  hardly  be  tempted  back.  I  cannot  begin  to  tell  you, 
Mary,  how  beautiful  that  is  to  me  already,  and  how  rich  its 
promise  is  for  June.  You  know  how  "  Plainfleld,"  and  that 
part  of  West  Springfield  where  the  market  gardens  are,  look  in 
their  best  estate ;  and  this  gives  you  the  best  suggestion  I  can 
think  of,  of  all  England.  It  is  literally  a  garden.  The  hedges, 
the  evergreens,  the  ivy,  the  flowers,  are  rich  with  rural  beauty ; 
and  then  it  is  such  a  comfort  to  a  tired  American  —  th-ed  of  our 
fret  and  hurry  and  unfinish  — •  to  see  something  done  and  com- 
pleted and  pohshed. 

As  for  my  health  —  the  first  eight  or  ten  days  of  the  voyage 
pulled  me  down  considerably,  but  ever  since  I  have  been 
improving,  and  now  I  am  surely  better  than  when  I  left  home. 
I  get  thoroughly  fatigued  physically  every  day,  without  com- 
monly too  much  nervous  excitement  or  exhaustion,  and  this 
has  a  favorable  effect  upon  my  sleep.  I  think  I  get  more  of  it, 
though  still  the  great  trouble  is  broken  and  dreaming  nights. 
I  am,  on  the  whole,  quite  satisfied  with  the  improvement  I  have 
made  in  the  short  time  I  have  been  away.  At  Paris  we  shall 
settle  down  into  a  more  quiet  and  regular  life  than  we  have 
Hved  ia  England,  and  I  expect  to  enjoy  that  city  much  more 
than  London.  But  I  look  forward  to  our  proposed  week  on  the 
Isle  of  Wight,  another  week  in  the  Lake  country  of  northern 
England,  and  the  mouth  or  six  weeks  in  Switzerland,  with  the 
largest  anticipations  of  pleasure  and  improvement.     The  great 


IN  EUROPE.  367 

drawback,  however,  to  it  all  is  that  you  are  not  here  to  see  and 
participate  in  this  new  hfe.  I  knew  it  would  be  so,  and  yet 
the  feeling  is  greater  and  more  ever-present  than  I  anticipated. 
Hardly  an  hour  goes  by  that  I  do  not  see  something  that  I  wish 
you  in  particular  to  see  and  enjoy;  and  it  is  a  constant  fret 
that  I  cannot  have  you  by  my  side,  and  feel  not  only  my  enjoy- 
ment of  it,  but  yours  in  addition.  When  I  was  on  the  steamer, 
I  thought  I  never  would  bring  you  across  the  ocean,  and  was 
glad  you  were  not  with  me  to  sviffer  the  torture  and  discom- 
fort ;  now  it  seems  to  me  as  if  I  could  not  let  you  stay  away 
another  month.  I  want  aU  my  friends  with  me  —  one  for  this 
and  one  for  that, — but  you  for  aU;  you  who  have  had  so  little 
of  the  outward  life  of  society  and  nature,  but  are  so  greedy  of 
it.  Well,  well,  we  won't  chafe  any  more  than  we  can  help 
about  it ;  the  true  course  is  to  make  the  best  of  things  as  they 
are,  and  seem  selfish  that  we  may  gi'ow  into  the  power  to  be 
generous  by  and  by.  But  I  do  wish  I  had  the  power  of  inter- 
preting what  I  see  and  enjoy  to  you  more  literally  than  I  have. 
That  would  give  some  satisfaction  in  seeing  and  enjoying  so 
much  that  you  do  not  share.  But  you  must  take  it  aU  in 
results  —  in  the  blossoming,  I  trust,  of  a  richer  life.  We  can- 
not share  oiu*  daily  food  with  those  far  away,  but  they  may 
have  the  effects  of  it  in  health  and  strength.  But  this  is  phi- 
losophizing, and  cheap  at  that,  instead  of  gossiping. 

To  the  "  Bepublican.''^ 

London,  June  15,  1862. 
.  .  .  I  have  avoided  England's  politics  and  politicians,  and 
let  alone  the  questions  that  now  embitter  America  toward  them ; 
and  so  I  have  found  generally  both  pleasure  and  profit  in  my 
travels.  I  do  not  expect  to  find  any  country  or  any  people  I 
like  better,  and  I  do  not  know  that  I  want  to.  They  are  nearer 
to  us  than  any  other  —  more  like  us  —  with  more  of  our  traits, 
more  of  our  faults,  and  more  of  oiu*  excellencies,  than  any  other 
nation ;  and  all  the  meanness  of  her  government,  all  the  jealousy 
of  her  aristocracy,  and  the  selfishness  of  her  commerce  cannot 
crush  out  the  sympathy  her  intelligent,  independent,  progres- 
sive middle  classes  feel  for  us,  now  and  always.    Perhaps  I 


368     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

may  sum  up  England  with  the  sarcasm  of  Macaulay,  or  Sidney 
Smith,  or  somebody  else,  on  her  greatest  philosopher  and  states- 
man (Lord  Bacon),  and  say  she  is  at  once  the  gi'eatest,  wisest, 
and  meanest  of  nation-kind.  [Of  course  "  eveiy  intelligent 
school-boy  "  can  conect  this  quotation,  and  give  the  authorship 
rightly — and  he  shall  be  left  to  do  it !  ] 

To  Charles  Allen. 

Baden-Baden,  July  7, 1862. 

You  see  I  have  taken  you  at  your  word,  and  not  written — 
but  I  can't  stand  it  longer  —  I  must  send  my  message  of 
friendship  to  you  across  the  water,  to  give  you  visible  evi- 
dence  of  my  constant  thought  of  you,  and  to  prove  to  you 
that  the  old  fire  still  burns.  One  day  last  winter,  as  I  was 
walking  up  Sixth  Avenue,  New  York,  two  plainly  di'essed 
Germans  met  each  other  near  me,  and  the  cold  ah'  instantly 
grew  warm  with  their  cordiahty.  One  said  :  "  I  t'inks  of  you 
every  day,"  That  seemed  to  me  the  perfection  of  compli- 
mentary friendship.  I  beheve  I  can  say  the  same  of  you.  This 
banishment  only  brightens  into  stronger  relief  all  my  home 
treasures,  aU  my  home  friends — and  especially  during  the  last 
month,  the  anniversary  of  our  expedition  to  the  White  Moun- 
tains, have  I  had  recollections  of  you  and  that  experience 
brought  keenly  to  mind.  I  have  hved  those  days  aU  over,  and 
found  new  pleasure  in  the  remembrances  of  them. 

Your  letters  were  very  grateful  to  me  —  I  have  had  two,  I  be- 
heve—  and  I  hunger  for  more.  I  want  to  know  aU  about  your- 
self, your  life  and  prospects,  and  then  about  "  the  folks  "  both 
with  you  and  at  Greenfield.  Also  your  views  about  pubhc 
affairs,  and  any  gossip  of  personal  or  pubhc  nature  that  gets  to 
you.  I  have  no  coiTespondent  but  you  for  all  that  latter  class 
of  subjects,  and  I  do  not  read  the  papers  much,  and  try  not  to 
think  greatly  about  pohtics  and  revolutions  at  home  —  and  yet 
I  do  not  care  to  remain  m.  entire  ignorance,  and  your  summaries 
and  gossip  will  just  suit  me.  So,  if  you  can  keep  up  a  one- 
sided correspondence,  pray  do  so. 

For  myself,  there  is  not  much  to  be  said  that  Mary  has  not 
probably  told  you  already.    I  write  to  her  pretty  fully  every 


m  EUROPE.  369 

week,  and  little  or  nothing  else.  Now  that  I  have  commenced, 
I  want  to  write  an  occasional  letter,  say  once  in  three  or  four 
weeks,  to  the  paper,  especially  as  Frank  [the  younger  brother 
was  called  sometimes  Ben,  sometimes  Frank]  doesn't  take  to  that 
thing  as  he  promised  to.  But  I  shaU  hardly  do  enough  in  that 
business  to  harm  me.  A  fellow  hke  me  must  have  some  httle 
outlet,  and  I  can't  talk  the  lingo  so  as  to  amuse  myself  with 
the  people ;  there  are  no  women  to  chaff  with,  and  to  rub  your 
mind  out  of  its  morbidity  —  what  was  hunger  with  us  at  the 
White  Mountains  last  year  in  this  respect  is  famine  here  and 
now — and  I  have  no  disposition  to  read  beyond  the  guide- 
books and  old  copies  of  the  Mepublican.  It  could  hardly  be 
otherwise  than  an  interesting  and  instructive  summer  to  me ; 
the  joui'ney  is  full  of  material,  and  I  only  want  society  and  a 
httle  more  head  to  be  quite  content  and  happy.  ...  I 
have  got  through  with  my  sight-seeing  experiences,  and  am 
now  fairly  launched  on  the  summer's  plan  of  out-door  life, 
which  I  have  great  faith  will  build  up  the  weak  points  in  my 
system.  I  must  expect  it  to  be  slow  work,  for  the  decay  was 
slow.  Nobody  knows  how  I  have  abused  my  brain  but  myself, 
and  I  therefore  ought  to  be  the  most  patient  with  its  maladies. 
The  daily  life  is  simple  and  virtuous  enough  to  suit  an  an- 
chorite. I  go  to  bed  from  ten  to  eleven,  get  up  from  seven  to 
nine,  breakfast  on  weak  coffee  and  bread  and  butter  (and  such 
bread  and  butter  you  never  saw  in  America  for  goodness)  with 
eggs,  fruit,  or  a  little  meat  —  one  of  the  three  generally  —  in 
addition.  Then  for  four  or  five  hours  out-doors  in  excursions, 
looking  at  the  shops  in  the  cities,  and  lounging  in  our  room. 
If  an  early  breakfast,  a  light  lunch  of  bread  and  butter  or  fruit 
at  eleven,  and  a  dinner  of  soup,  beef  or  mutton,  and  bread  and 
butter  at  five,  with  a  httle  beer,  light  wine  or  porter,  for  drink. 
Then  more  walking  and  saimtering  around  till  bed-time.  I 
am  diinking  no  hot  and  rebeUious  spirits  at  all,  and  very  little 
of  the  hght  sorts,  and  these  only  at  dinner.  Could  a  man  be 
more  virtuous  and  live  ?  There  are  very  few  Americans  to  be 
met  abroad,  and  those  few  of  httle  interest.     I  had  a  very 

charming  Sunday  and  Monday  with  Carrie  D ,  at  Sheffield, 

and  at  Edinburgh  a  strong-miaded  Miss  Bird,  who  writes  books 

Vol.  I.— 24 


370     THE   LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

and  reviews,  and  did  write  some  letters  for  the  Republican, 
made  herself  very  agreeable  to  us.  I  met  her  at  Erastus  Hop- 
kins's, some  years  ago,  when  she  was  in  America.  Also  at 
Edinburgh  the  County  Parson  fed  me  and  chatted  with  me. 
Beyond  this  I  have  had  no  society  but  my  brother,  and  he  isn't 
a  talkative  chap,  you  know.  I  ought  to  except  Paris,  however, 
for  there  at  dinner  we  always  met  two  or  three  clever  young 
Americans,  and  Mrs.  Bigelow  and  Mrs.  Doremus,  of  New  York, 
gave  us  two  or  three  pleasant  evenings. 

But  the  women  of  Eui-ope  don't  fascinate  me  very  much.  It 
is  easier  to  be  virtuous  among  them  than  I  supposed.  You  see 
occasionally  a  pure  and  pretty  English  girl  that  reminds  you 
of  our  young  American  beauties,  but  the  Continental  dames 
have  few  attractions  any  way.  At  Paris  and  these  German 
spas  the  most  beautiful  and  best  got  up  are  the  demi-monde, 
but  they  savor  too  much  of  high  art  to  beguile  such  a  lover  of 
the  natural  and  true  as  I.  But  the  demi-monde  are  a  class  to 
which  we  have  no  counterpart  in  America ;  they  are  respect- 
able disrespectabilities,  lead  the  fashions,  and  give  the  tone  to 
the  society  in  the  outside,  superficial  world.  You  ought  to  see 
them  on  the  street,  in  the  gardens,  and  around  the  gaming- 
tables at  the  watering-places.  There  are  many  things  I  see 
that  would  greatly  entertain  you,  but  I  cannot  write  of  them. 
Paris  is  a  perfect  George  T.  Davis  place, — he  would  be  in 
heaven  there,  after  getting  the  hang  of  it.  But  I  must  cut  this 
short.     Tell  Lincoln  about  me,  and  give  him  and  his  my  love. 

Let  me  be  remembered  also  to  our  pleasant  friend  Miss  B . 

Ditto  to  Judge  Chapman.     To  L and  your  mother  much 

love  and  many  good  wishes.  Also  remember  me  to  the  Green- 
field home. 

To  Miss  Whitney. 

Interlaxen,  Switzerland,  July  26. 

.  .  .  August  14  is  Mary's  birthday;  you  wiU  get  this 
letter  —  ''errors  excepted"  as  the  merchants  say — before  that 
date,  and  if  you  can  get  away  from  home,  I  want  you  to  go 
down  that  day  and  make  her  a  surprise  visit — teU  her  you 
have  come  to  keep  her  birthday  with  her.    I  will  pay  you 


IN  EUKOPE.  371 

some  time,  or  try  to ;  and  if  I  don't  and  can't,  only  let  it  go  to 
the  saintship- accumulation,  and  the  individuals  of  coming  gen- 
erations that  get  your  disembodied  soul  wiU  be  the  bigger  and 
the  richer  for  it.  Then — at  that  time  or  later,  after  yoiu*  sum- 
mer visitors  have  flown  —  I  want  you  if  you  can  to  go  down 
and  stay  a  long  month  at  Hotel  de  Bowles  —  play  with  the 
children,  happify  the  mother,  and  ride  the  horse  —  and  leave 
the  aroma  of  your  spii-it  for  me  to  fatten  on  when  I  come 
back.  Don't  you  think  you  can  do  it  —  and  that  it  wiU  do  you 
good "? 

.  .  .  I  have  to  thank  you  very,  very  much,  my  dear  friend, 
for  your  late  Uttle  visit  to  Mary.  Could  I  quote  to  you  what  she 
writes  of  it,  I  am  sure  you  would  feel  repaid  for  whatever  of 
sacrifice  or  trouble  it  cost  you.  Yours  is  the  priceless  privilege 
of  making  others  happy — no  life  is  cheap  or  baiTcn  or  lonely 
that  is  so  rich  in  gifts  of  this  sort  as  yours.  ...  I  am  eager 
to  talk  to  you  of  the  several  leading  topics  of  which  you  write, 
and  in  which  I  either  have  been  ah^eady  interested,  or  you 
interest  me  freshly.  As  to  writing  of  them,  that  is  impossible 
now.  My  convictions  are  not  clear  and  positive  enough  to  be 
stated  concisely,  and  I  shall  not  jield  to  the  temptation  of  wi'it- 
ing  at  length  till  I  am  stronger  in  health  and  fresher  in  spirit. 
There  are  some  considerations  in  my  mind  on  the  question  of 
immortality,  as  well  as  upon  the  origin  of  language,  that  it 
seems  to  me  you  do  not  sufficiently  take  into  account.  Nor  do 
you,  I  beheve,  quite  fairly  state  the  most  intelligent  and  reason- 
able view  of  the  future  state  as  felt  by  its  behevers.  The  great 
idea  of  it,  the  great  want  of  it,  is  Rest.  Nobody  is  happy  in 
this  life,  save  idiots,  and  the  feeling  that  creatures  of  such 
capacities  and  endowments  are  entitled  to  a  higher  Ufe  and  a 
more  peaceful  one,  it  seems  to  me,  Ues  at  the  bottom  of  most 
of  the  popular  behef  in  a  future  existence.  How  rest  in  its 
higher  sense  is  compatible  with  growth  and  progress,  perhaps 
no  one  of  the  believers  can  tell ;  nor  can  we  tell,  any  of  us,  of 
other  mysteries  that  we  believe  in.  Certain  it  is  that  the 
laws  of  life  in  the  other  world,  if  there  be  one,  must  be  dif- 
ferent from  those  here  ;  we  must  put  off  all  that  weariness  and 
striving,  all  that  want  that  torments  us  here.     God  there, 


372     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

must  be  to  us  all  that  our  dreams  and  ideals  are  here.  .  .  . 
I  am  willing  to  wait.  My  views  of  this  life  would  be  the  same 
under  either  view  of  the  other, —  there  I  agree  with  you  most 
fully. 

.  .  .  Mary  will  tell  you  as  to  my  health — it  is  so-so-ish — 
not  so  good  as  we  hoped,  but  yet  improving.  I  keep  very 
much  on  the  surface  of  hfe,  as  you  will  see  from  all  my  letters. 
The  days  go  by  listlessly, —  and  the  best  sign  is  that  I  grow 
lazy  and  indifferent  to  all  but  the  going  home. 

To  Us  Wife. 

Interlaxen,  August  3,  Sunday. 
The  week  has  introduced  me  to  some  of  the  finest  scenery 
of  the  Alps.  Oui'  excursion  along  the  necks  of  the  higher 
Bernese  range  —  Jungfrau,  Monch,  Eiger,  Wetterhom,  etc. — 
was  a  most  fortunate  one.  The  weather  has  been  fine  all  the 
week,  warm,  summeiy,  clear,  with  pure,  fresh  air — a  new 
moon  o'  nights,  and  starry  heavens  such  as  we  never  see  at 
home,  save  in  those  clear  winter  nights  when  the  stars  crowd 
and  jostle  each  other,  they  are  so  thick.  .  .  .  The  two  really 
novel  and  indescribable  features  of  Swiss  scenery  are  the  high 
snow-peaks  and  the  glaciers  of  snow  and  ice  extending  down 
fi'om  them  through  the  gorges,  and  the  waterfalls.  The  latter  are 
most  exquisite,  and  shake  their  coquettish  beauties  at  you  at 
every  turn.  More  than  anything  else  they  surprised  and  de- 
hghted  me.  The  mountains  themselves,  that  is,  the  higher  ones, 
are  simply  great  masses  of  rock,  bare  and  bald,  save  where  cov- 
ered with  snow,  and  majestic  and  overawing  rather  than  pictur- 
esque and  beautiful.  The  verdure  of  the  lesser  mountains  and 
vaUeys  is  wonderfully  rich,  timid  in  height,  but  thick  and  ex- 
quisite in  variety  and  color.  The  turf  seems  more  Uke  moss 
than  grass,  and  it  is  as  thick  with  httle  bright  wild  flowers  as  the 
heavens  are  these  nights  with  stars.  The  mountains  of  rock 
and  snow  seem  strangers  to  you,  you  cannot  grow  friendly 
with  them,  they  frown  rather  than  smile,  hke  an  orthodox 
di^'inity ;  but  the  little  meek-eyed  flowers  are  as  sweet  and  fa- 
miliar as  the  "  Suffer  httle  children "  of  Jesus ;  you  are  on 


IN  EUROPE.  373 

loving  terms  at  once ;  and  you  only  want,  at  least  I  only 
wanted,  the  presence  of  human  love  and  friendly  hearts  and 
faces  to  feel  full  delight  in  their  company.  But  the  tantaliza- 
tion  1  have  often  before  expressed  robbed  aU  of  half  its 
pleasures.  I  can't  seem  to  be  a  complete  humanity,  and  I 
think  I  suffer  quite  as  much  as  I  enjoy  in  the  presence  of  these 
novel  sights  and  rare  spectacles  of  nattu'e.  After  aU,  human 
nature  is  the  most  fascinating  of  nature  to  me.  I  want  some- 
thing that  speaks,  and  that  in  a  familiar  tongue,  and  with  a 
sjTnpathe tic  heart.  '' Come  over  and  help  us"  —  do!  . 
There  are  lots  of  Enghsh  evei-jTvhere,  but  so  long  as  they  let 
us  alone,  we  do  them.  I  shrink  from  getting  into  serious  con- 
versation with  any  one,  most  of  all  with  an  Englishman,  for  he 
woidd  be  sure  to  want  to  talk  about  the  war,  and  that  is  a  theme 
I  cannot  talk  with  any  one  about,  friend  or  foe.  The  Enghsh, 
however,  do  not  make  themselves  especially  obnoxious  to  us, 
I  ought  to  say,  and  I  had  an  amusing  experience  with  a  man 
and  his  wife  at  lunch,  the  other  day.  I  called  for  some  English 
porter ;  the  woman  looked  at  the  man,  and  he  at  her,  and  both 
at  me,  with  an  expression  half  of  astonishment  and  haK  of 
dehght.  Finally  he  spoke  :  "  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  did  you 
say  porter  f''  "  Certainly,  sir."  "But  do  they  have  it  here?" 
"  Yes,  sir ;  and  very  good."  The  woman's  eyes  fairly  danced 
with  delight,  and  she  immediately  offered  me  a  cold  boiled 
potato  that  she  didn't  want.  When  ray  porter  came  I  begged 
them  to  taste  of  it,  which  they  did  with  increased  satisfaction, 
and  since  then  they  have  treated  me  with  great  condescension. 
They  have  e\'idently  erected  a  monument  in  their  hearts  to  me 
for  having  introduced  to  them  the  fact  that  their  pet  home  bev- 
erage could  be  had  in  Switzerland.  The  gentleman  invited  us  to 
join  in  a  waltz  in  the  public  room,  last  night,  and  offered  to  get  us 
partners,  but  we  dechned  as  out  of  practice.  I  must  learn  to 
waltz  after  my  French  and  German  are  acquii'ed.  These  are 
the  only  acquaintances  I  have  made  among  the  English  on 
the  continent,  and  our  discourse  has  confined  itself  so  far  to 
porter  and  dancing!  .  .  .  Frank  found  *'the  girl  he  left 
behind  him "  on  the  Wengern  Alp,  seven  years  ago,  when  he 
was  sick  and  she  took  care  of  him.     She  is  now  mamed, 


374     THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

and  has  a  pretty  baby.  I  was  introduced,  and  made  my 
profouudest  bow.  She  gave  him  a  souvenir  in  the  shape  of 
a  watch-case,  and  he  has  returned  the  compliment  with  one 
of  his  purchases,  sending  it  by  her  husband,  whom  he  found 
down  here. 

Monday  morning.  ...  In  the  evening,  my  conscience,  and 
bad  weather  which  forbade  walking,  drove  me  to  the  Enghsh 
chapel,  and  I  had  my  usual  bad  luck  —  a  stupid,  unelevating 
sermon,  all  about  the  brazen  serpent  and  the  Israelites  and  the 
severity  of  Grod  !  I  took  some  money  to  pay  for  the  preaching, 
and  then  was  so  disappointed  and  disgusted  I  resolved  I  would 
not  give  a  cent,  but  I  had  not  courage  to  pass  the  plate-holder, 
especially  as  he  tm'ned  out  to  be  Mr.  Brown  Stout,  as  I  call  my 
English  porter  acquaintance.    So  I  gave  in,  and  paid ! 

To  his  Wife. 

Geneva,  August  31. 

.  .  .  Saturday,  rode  on  horses  three  hours  (from  Visp,  in 
the  Rhone  Valley),  walked  four  hours,  to  Zermatt  —  cloudy, 
bad  weather.  Sunday,  beautiful  day  —  God's  invitation  to  "  go 
up  higher  " —  so  we  went  —  Unitarians  piously ;  Orthodox  pro- 
testingly,  hui't  their  consciences  and  stopped  haK-way  —  saints 
went  on,  and  had  magnificent  views  of  glaciers  and  snow-peaks, 
whereof  I  have  written  on  the  spot,  in  a  sheet  inclosed. 

[Inclosure  in  Pencil. 

Gomer  Grat,  near  Zermatt.  10,200  feet  high.  Dearest 
Maiy :  This  commands  the  finest  Swiss  view  —  the  highest 
mountains,  the  most  snow,  the  largest  and  finest  glaciers.  On 
every  hand,  the  mountains  covered  with  snow, —  before  us  the 
higher  hills,  twelve,  thu-teen,  or  fourteen  thousand  feet  high, 
covered  with  thick  snow-fields,  piled  up  in  immense  drifts  and 
of  the  purest  white.  The  chasms  between  are  filled  with  com- 
pact ice  and  snow,  stretching  down  into  the  valleys,  and  feed- 
ing the  rivers  with  vehement  toiTents.  Such  a  panorama  of 
rocky  mountains  and  hard  and  unrelenting  ''virgin  nature" 
I  never  saw  before  —  never  imagined.  No  trees,  no  grass, — 
here  and  there  a  flower, —  all  else  barren  land,  or  rock,  or 


IN  EUKOPE.  375 

snow,  or  ice.  It  is  vast,  impressive,  sublime  —  not  soft,  not 
picturesque,  not  poetical,  not  soothing,  but  wonderfully  impres- 
sive. Of  all  the  scenes  in  Switzerland,  this  is  the  gi'andest, 
the  gi-eatest,  the  most  sublime.  ...  I  wish  you  could  be 
here  for  an  hour  or  two  —  you  and  all  our  friends.  So  vast,  so 
imposing,  so  wonderful  a  scene  cannot  be  expressed  in  words  or 
sketch, —  it  must  be  felt  through  eyes  in  an  acheless  head  to  be 
understood.  The  egoism  of  my  headache  is  a  great  drawback 
to  me  —  one  never  gets  out  of  himself  with  such  a  malady. 
But  stiU  it  is  great  —  it  almost  hf ts  me  out  of  myself,  and  that 
is  the  best  tribute  I  can  pay  to  its  vastness  and  magnificence. 
But  a  good-morning  to  you,  dearest  —  I  think  of  you  aU  among 
all  sights  and  in  aU  experiences.] 

This  was  a  great  experience.  Monday  repeated  the  sight. 
Orthodox  going  this  time,  and  finding  no  sin.  Tuesday  —  big 
day  —  up  at  two  A.  M. —  off  at  three  to  cross  the  St.  Theodul 
pass  into  Italy  —  sunrise  on  the  hiUs  —  immense  thing  — "  must 
be  seen  to  be  appreciated,"  as  the  man  said  of  his  monkeys. 
Stopped  at  seven  for  second  breakfast  "  a  la  fourchette,"  with 
five-tined  forks, —  then  on  to  the  snow  for  three  hours  —  up,  up, 
up, —  snow  for  miles  on  aU  sides,  thousands  of  feet  deep, — 
stopped  on  summit  at  stone  hut  to  wann, — 11,000  feet  high, — 
highest  point  we  have  been, — twice  as  high  as  highest  White 
Mountains, —  found  at  hut  large  party,  including  two  or  three 
women,  making  the  trip  from  other  side.  For  two  hours  in 
crossing  the  snow,  we  had  to  be  tied  together, —  strung  on  a 
rope  six  feet  apart,  guide  ahead,  so  as  to  prevent  any  one  being 
lost  off  by  falling  into  the  crevasses,  great  cracks  in  the  snow 
and  ice,  fathomless,  across  which  we  jumped.  Danger  not  very 
great,  just  enough  to  be  exhilarating.  Snow  cold,  struck  to 
bowels;  sick  —  ate  sugar  and  brandy  —  didn't  do  any  good. 
Down  into  Italy,  through  splosh,  and  under  the  bluest  of 
skies — very  blue  —  struck  down  and  met  the  snow  striking 
up,  and  was  blue  aU  over  and  through.  Got  to  dry  land  about 
noon — better  —  dined  and  pushed  on  —  tramp,  tramp, —  rode  a 
mule  an  hour  or  two  —  harder  than  walking  —  Ben  sick  and 
parted  company  ^vith  his  dinner, —  but  on,  in  shadows  of  night, 
till  nine  p.  m. — eighteen  hours  on  road ! — when  we  reached  Cha- 


376     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

tillon,  and  supped  on  fresh  figs  and  grapes.  Wednesday,  general 
sense  of  stiffness  and  stupidity  through  company  —  breakfast 
of  fruit  —  rode  in  carriage  fifteen  miles  to  Aosta,  and  agreed  to 
call  it  a  day's  work.  This,  Italy  —  dirty,  nasty,  goitre  and 
cretins  abundant  —  worse  than  Switzerland  or  Germany  —  and 
yet  through  dirt  occasionally  a  sweet  face  and  an  Italian  eye, 
borrowed  of  heaven's  own  blue.  Thursday,  rainy,  but  off  for 
the  great  St.  Bernard  Pass  —  bought  grapes  for  two  cents  a 
pound,  same  kind  that  B.  K.  Bhss  sells  for  seventy-five  cents, 
and  ate,  and  ate  —  also  peaches  and  pears  —  turned  om'selves 
into  fruit -jars,  covered  with  umbrellas  to  keep  the  air  and  the 
rain  out  —  long  walk,  eight  hours,  all  rain  —  last  two  hours 
hard  cUmb  —  struck  snow-storm  before  we  got  to  the  hospital, 
and  made  the  last  half-mile  under  a  blinding  squall  —  had  to 
put  our  noses  to  the  path  and  move  on.  Warm  reception  at 
hospice,  di-y  clothes,  fire,  and  supper.  Bleak,  dreary  place  — 
scene  of  Longfellow's  Excelsior.  Morning,  still  rainy  —  saw 
the  St.  Bernard  dogs,  big  yellow  and  white  feUows  —  saw  the 
building  where  they  stick  up  the  dead  bodies  of  people  lost  in 
going  through  the  Pass  in  bad  weather  —  a  ghastly,  grinning 
collection  of  skeletons  in  all  stages  of  decay  —  among  the  rest 
a  mother  and  child  in  her  arms  —  air  so  rare  and  pure  up 
here  it  is  not  necessary  to  bury,  and  so  they  dry  up  and  faU  to 
pieces  as  they  stand  around  the  walls.  Down  back  into  Swit- 
zerland —  walked  an  hour  and  rode  five  to  Martigny,  in  valley 
of  Rhone.  This  was  Friday,  and  Saturday  we  intended  to  walk 
(nine  hours)  over  to  Chamouny,  but  the  weather  was  still  bad, 
and  we  turned  off  here  by  rail  to  pass  the  Sunday,  recruit  our 
strength  and  our  purses,  get  some  clean  clothes,  and  wait  for 
fine  weather.  And  so  here  we  are  — place  where  John  Calvin 
ruled  and  preached,  and  a  great  musical  fete  going  on  of  Sun- 
day,—  grand  concert  in  Cathedral,  Protestant  church  — pro- 
cessions, flags,  salvos  of  artillery ;  and  to-night  a  banquet 
and  a  torchhght  procession  and  illumination.  We  have  spent 
two  hours  at  a  concert  —  marvelous  chorus  singing  —  and 
came  out  to  write.  That's  all,  I  believe.  As  to  health,  up  and 
down — bad  days  and  good  days,  but  think  I  can  feel  steady 
improvement. 


IN  EUEOPE.  377 

To  his  Wife. 

Chamount,  tmder  Mt.  Blanc, 

14th  "Wedding-day,  September  5. 
So  I  celebrate  the  blessed  anniversary !  The  morning  is  wet 
and  foggy,  mountain  flights  are  forbidden ;  I  have  been  dream- 
ing over  open  fires  and  reading  old  Repuhlicans ;  now  I  vary 
the  action,  but  keep  ever  the  thought  of  thanks  for  the  past 
and  hope  for  the  future  —  for  our  past  and  our  futirre.  New 
health  coui-ses  in  my  veins,  and  that,  too,  gives  joy.  Push 
back  the  tragedies  to-day — room  for  the  joys,  for  pleasure,  for 
happiness,  for  thankfulness  —  for  life,  for  wife,  for  home,  for 
children,  for  friends  !  If  I  were  a  poet,  I  would  write  a  love- 
song ;  if  I  had  a  voice,  I  would  sing  it;  I  am  a  mau,  and  I 
feel  it !  God  grant  you  all  feel  it  with  me  to-day ;  that  my 
renewed  content  and  happiness  subtly  communicate  itself  to 
you,  and  that  in  the  Connecticut  valley  as  in  that  of  Chamouny, 
there  are  joyous  hearts  inspired  by  the  same  love  and  faith 
and  hope !    .     .    . 

To  his  Wife. 

.  .  .  Such  love  was  hardly  ever  given  to  man  before,  and 
it  has  kept  me  up  by  its  exaltation  when  all  other  resources 
failed.  We  are  all  lifted  up  by  the  good  opinion  of  others ;  and 
though,  of  course,  I  can  never  di-eam  of  reaching  the  high  pin- 
nacle to  which  your  idoUzing  ideahsm  exalts  me,  I  am  sure  it 
never  has  made  me  for  a  moment  careless  of  your  happiness. 
It  has  always  been  a  stimulant,  an  inspiration,  a  call  to  better- 
ment, and  the  only  grief  it  has  produced  has  been  that  I  was 
unworthy  of  such  adoration.  ...  I  do  not  talk  much 
about  these  things,  because  it  is  of  no  avail,  and  because  such 
talk  is  apt  to  run  into  morbidness,  and  spend  itself  and  satisfy 
itself  in  mere  talk ;  but  I  think  and  act  a  good  deal.  My  life, 
if  it  has  character  and  eloquence  in  it,  expresses  itself  best  in 
action.  Words  are  bom  largely  of  intellectual  stimulations 
and  contact ;  the  life,  which  is  yours  in  its  daily  effort  and 
thoiight  and  striving,  has  deeper  roots  and  firmer  hold,  and 
may  be  ti-usted  longer. 


378     THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOTVTLiES. 

To  his  oldest  Daughter. 
Vevay,  Switzerland,  September  15, 1862. 

My  darling  Sallie  :  Your  many  dear  little  letters  deserved 
special  answer  long  ago,  but  I  felt  you  would  have  patience 
with  me  and  not  expect  "  Une  for  line."  But  I  see  even  you 
are  giving  out,  and  demand  recognition,  and  count  up  what  I 
have  written  others,  and  remember  that  I  have  written  you 
nothing.  But  here  goes  now,  and  you  will  forgive  past  neg- 
lects, won't  you  1  Your  letters  have  given  me  great  pleasure 
and  much  news.  I  have  been  glad  to  notice  the  care  and 
scholarly  perfection  of  their  composition.  Now  you  must  seek 
to  acquire  elegance  and  ease  in  writing,  and  also  in  expression. 
These  will  come  with  practice  and  famiharity  with  language. 
There  is  no  better  disciphne  than  writing  compositions,  and  I 
hope  you  like  it  well  enough  to  seek  every  opportunity  and 
excuse  for  exercise  in  it. 

I  do  not  know  what  I  can  tell  you  about  myself  or  my  travels 
that  win  be  new  to  you.  I  confess  to  Mother  so  fully  of  all 
my  daily  doings  and  undoings  that  there  is  nothing  left.  To 
be  sure,  there, are  details  of  excursion,  and  daily  experiences, 
but  these  are  long  stories,  and  can  hardly  be  written  in  letters. 
Some  time  I  hope  to  tell  you  some  of  them,  though  you  know, 
too,  that  I  am  not  so  good  as  Mrs.  Cook  at  story-teUing.  .  This 
is  a  bright  and  beautiful  morning,  and  I  anticipate  great  pleas- 
ure in  going  out  into  it.  I  am  still  in  my  room,  and  have  just 
eaten  my  breakfast  here,  consisting  of  three  pounds  of  grapes, 
and  of  nought  else.  They  were  beautiful  grapes,  eight  great 
bunches,  greenish  white  in  color,  turning  to  yellow  on  the  sides 
exposed  to  the  sun,  and  very  rich  and  sweet.  How  I  wish  I 
could  lay  down  a  great  basketful  for  you  and  the  other  children 
and  Mother  and  Aunt  Alhe,  in  our  dining-room. 

.  .  .  Our  hotel  is  located  right  on  the  banks  of  the  lake  — 
Lake  Leman  or  Lake  Geneva, — a  small  garden  and  yard  in 
front  lead  directly  to  the  water,  and  boats  are  always  ready  to 
take  people  out  to  ride.  We  mean  to  go  to-day,  and  I  shall 
try  to  learn  to  row,  so  that  I  can  beat  **  Aunt  Maria,"  as  I 
beheve  you  call  her,  when  I  come  back.  You  should  see  the 
water  of  the  lake, —  it  is  so  exquisitely  pure  and  blue.    The 


IN   EUEOPE.  379 

Rhone  River  comes  in  at  one  end,  dirty  and  muddy  as  the 
dirtiest  "soap-suds"  on  washing-day ;  but  it  soon  settles  and 
clarifies,  and  when  the  rivei*  goes  out  at  the  other  end,  it  is  as 
pure  as  crj'stal,  and  blue  as  the  bluest  sky  you  ever  saw.  It  is 
a  charming  sight  to  see  this  ti'anspareut  and  richly  colored 
water  dancing  and  foaming  as  it  rushes  out  of  the  lake  into 
the  narrow  river- way  right  through  the  city  of  Geneva.  No 
matter  how  much  dirt  is  thrown  into  it,  nor  how  many  muddy 
streams  pour  into  it  —  it  turns  all  to  purity  and  crystal  —  just 
as,  a  miuister  would  say  probably,  a  pui-e  and  tnie  life  changes 
everything  and  everybody  that  comes  into  contact  with  it  into 
ti-uth  and  goodness. 

Only  think, —  two  months  from  to-day,  November  15  —  if  no 
accidents  happen,  I  shall  be  at  home.  I  shall  clasp  you  all  in 
my  arms,  and  once  more  the  old  home  circle  will  be  fuU,  and 
we  wiU  be  happy  together !  Won't  that  be  nice  ?  I  think  of  it 
every  day  and  every  hour,  and  am  growing  dreadfully  impa- 
tient for  the  day  and  the  hour.  There  —  I  have  filled  up  my 
sheet,  and  yet  have  not  said  half  the  things  I  had  to  say  to  you. 
But  they  will  keep  tiU  I  come.  You  must  give  great  love  to 
Sammy  and  Mamie  and  Uttle  Charlie  —  wonderful  baby  —  but 
we  always  have  wonderful  babies  at  our  house,  you  know  — 
and  to  Aunt  AUie  and  Grandma  and  all.  Please^  too,  hand  the 
accompanjnng  sheet  to  Mrs.  Bowles,  with  my  most  affectionate 
regards.  I  kiss  my  hand  to  you  across  the  land  and  over  the 
ocean !     Good-bye.     Your  fond  and  proud  father. 

To  Miss  Whitney. 
Vevay,  Switzerland,  September  20,  1862. 
What  will  you  have  —  if  you  can  get  it  ?  A  pound  of  fresh 
grapes,  a  row  on  the  lake  with  me,  or  a  stroll  out  among  the 
%T.neyards  and  the  groves,  and  up  the  hill-sides  ?  Come,  and 
you  shall  have  your  choice  —  all  three  if  you  are  greedy. 
There  are  grapes  enough  to  share  with  you  —  I  should  suffer 
no  lack ;  and  as  to  the  other  things,  why,  your  company 
would  be  better  than  the  room !  We  woidd  '•  welcome  you 
with  open  arms,"  and  take  care  not  to  shock  you  by  closing 
them  —  if  we  could  help  it ! 


380     THE  LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BO^VLES. 

We  count  our  remnaut  of  Euxope  by  days,  and  the  heart 
beats  quicker  with  every  lessened  day.  The  passage  is  en- 
gaged by  the  Boston  boat  of  November  1.  ...  It  was 
"  awful  jolly,"  as  an  Englishman  would  say,  the  way  Mary's 
birthday  went  off.  I  fairly  clapped  my  hands  with  glee  at  the 
news  of  how  it  all  came  out.  Thanks  to  you  for  hieing  so 
quickly  to  do  your  part.  The  whole  thing  was  as  good  as  a 
play.     .     .     . 

I  have  been  learning  to  row  lately,  so  as  not  to  be  ashamed 
when  you  take  me  out  in  your  boat.  We  men  so  hate  to  have 
a  woman  more  clever  than  we  are  in  anything  but  worsted 
work,  playing  the  piano,  and  darning  stockings.  I  have  become 
quite  proficient  in  short  practice  ;  that  is,  I  have  splendid  blis- 
ters on  every  finger- joint.  This  lake  is  charming  boating- 
ground,  and  I  wished  my  flannel-skh'ted  boat- woman  was  here 
to  do  the  work  for  me  while  I  sat  enjoying  the  dolce  far  niente 
at  the  end  of  the  boat.  My  laziness  would  have  overcome  my 
pride,  and  the  woman's  rights  should  have  been  indulged  for 
once. 

But  all  this  is  not  replying  to  your  late  letters  —  as  fresh  and 
delightful  and  suggestive  as  ever.  My  brother  wonders  if  get- 
ting married  would  spoil  such  a  woman  as  you.  For  you  see  he 
reads  and  enjays,  too.  But  you  must  excuse  me  from  going  over 
Swedenborgianism,  slavery,  the  war,  and  all  the  solemn  ques- 
tions, and  sad,  too,  started  since  Eve  tempted  and  Adam  fell. 
I  shall  do  so  much  better  justice  to  my  profound  and  philo- 
sophical and  altogether  original  views,  when  I  can  see  you  face 
to  face.  You  and  I  would  hardly  differ  as  to  the  negroes,  on  a 
full  statement  of  our  respective  views ;  however,  I  shall 
always  appear  to  you  somewhat  conservative  on  most  topics  — 
while  almost  everybody  else  finds  me  radical — because  that  is 
what  you  rather  need  from  me  !  My  mind  of  late  years  has  a 
pestiferous  way  of  seeing  pretty  much  all  sides  of  questions ; 
and  though  both  from  nature  and  principle  I  am  identified 
with  the  progressive  and  radical  side,  I  still  do  not  forget  there 
is  another,  and  when  I  come  in  contact  with  such  as  you,  I  am 
apt  involuntarily —  especially  if  I  love  them  —  to  give  them  the 
benefit  of  it.    The  only  difference  that  I  notice  between  us  just 


IN  EUEOPE.  381 

now  on  tliis  particular  topic  is  that  wMle  you  are  willing  to 
trust  God  on  all  other  questions  connected  with  the  war,  you 
are  not  as  to  slavery  —  and  I  am  willing  to  trust  him  on  that 
and  not  on  the  others.  In  other  words,  I  feel  sure  that  my 
%'iews  of  his  purposes  as  to  slavery  agree  with  my  wishes ; 
while  as  to  others,  I  am  in  sad  doubt.  There  can  be  no  doubt 
that  slavery  is  done  for  —  that  the  war  growing  out  of  it  must  and 
will  end  it.  To  be  sure,  I  am  impatient  with  the  progress  of  both 
Abe  Lincoln  and  the  Almightj^  —  but  what  can  we  do  ?  But 
we  do  not  free  ourselves  from  responsibility  for  the  e\'il  by 
mnning  away  from  it.  Would  a  father  relieve  himself  from  a 
child's  sins  —  partly  the  result  of  his  education  and  toleration  — 
by  diiving  him  out  of  his  house,  or  letting  him  run  away  and 
riot  to  the  full  in  his  wickedness  ;  when  by  holding  him  in  his 
household  he  could  alternately  flog  and  nurse  the  sin  out  of 
him,  as  rapidly  as  digestion  and  grace  could  operate  ?  Tell  us 
that,  my  fair  logician.  But  then,  in  the  present  case,  slavery 
goes  by  the  board  in  our  day.  All  the  suffering  and  blood- 
shed and  cost  will  atone  for  the  past,  and  give  us  an  im- 
mediate entrance  into  the  heaven  of  Freedom.  Hoiv,  don't 
ask  me.  The  winds  will  blow,  the  rains  fall  —  but  I  cannot 
make  them,  or  foretell  them,  or  explain  them  —  but  they  do 
and  they  iciU. 

.  .  .  Will  anything  come  out  of  your  study  of  Sweden- 
borgianism  ?  It  has  certainly  much  to  appeal  to  such  natures 
as  yours,  and  yet  I  think  the  ceaseless,  quer5n.ng,  arithmetic 
part  of  youi'  brain  will  reject  it.  Christ  will  grow  more  to 
you,  surely.  For,  looking  at  him  without  any  but  the  mere 
mortal  eye,  there  is  no  such  other  character  in  history.  As 
Ai'temus  Ward  said  of  Washington,  his  principal  distinction  is 
that  there  is  nobody  else  like  him.  ...  I  often  wonder 
if  when  people  forget  Theodore  Parker's  iconoclasm,  his  ne- 
gations, he  will  stand  out  as  Martin  Luther  and  John  Calvin 
do  —  the  founder  of  a  new  church,  a  new  faith.  There  is  a 
chance  of  it.  He  was  much  like  them  —  had  he  lived  earlier  be 
would  have  burned  his  enemies,  as  Calvin  did,  and  gloated  over 
it.  He  came  as  near  it  as  the  times  wovdd  allow.  But  of  all 
this  by  and  by. 


382     THE  LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWXES. 
To  the  '^  Eepiiblican.''^ 

Vevay,  Switzerland,  September  22,  1862. 

Two  months  and  a  half  since  we  gossiped  together,  Rexmh- 
Zicaw  readers !  How  you  have  escaped,  and  how  I  have  the  dis- 
cipline of  ministers  to  ''  a  mind  diseased,"  for  insisting  on  not 
forgetting  you,  nor  letting  this  right  hand  forget  its  cunning. 
You  must  know  that  even  these  superficial  gossipings  of  my 
European  summer  are  forbidden  indulgences,  and  have  to  be 
done  on  the  sly.  Then  —  as  we  would  not  be  lugubriovis  and  tell 
you  of  the  low  and  sad  side  of  the  summer  —  how  can  we  talk 
gaily  of  pleasures  and  places,  of  lazy  life  in  luxm-ious  countries, 
to  men  and  women  whose  hearts'  blood  is  pouring  itself  out  for 
the  sake  of  our  common  heritage  of  country  and  government  ? 
It  seems  but  cruel  mockery  in  us  to  tell  you  of  sweet  Alpine 
valleys,  of  snow-crowned  mountains  in  midsummer,  of  lovely 
lakes  and  poetic  cataracts,  of  daily  joui*neyings  that  have  no 
end  but  rest  for  eye  and  mind,  and  ease  for  body  —  no  object 
but  comfort  and  pleasui'e  —  while  such  things  be  at  home.  We 
would  rather  you  would  forget  we  are  here  and  not  there  —  we 
would  rather  forget  it  oui-selves.  But  the  days  of  exile  are 
numbered — we  count  the  few  that  separate  us  from  our  coun- 
try with  impatience.  She  may  not  need  our  presence,  but  we 
need  hers.  The  tortm-e  of  absence  to  every  right-feeling 
American  at  this  time  is  indesci'ibable,  no  matter  how  feeble 
might  be  his  presence  and  his  contribution  to  his  nation's 
struggle  for  eivihzation  and  right.  It  robs  the  day  of  its  glory, 
the  night  of  its  rest  —  it  puts  a  blur  upon  the  face  of  natm-e. 
We  see  everywhere  and  in  everj'thing  strugghng,  bleeding 
America  —  friends  fallen  and  falling,  hearts  desolated  and  homes 
despoiled ;  and  we  are  not  there  even  to  give  the  sympathy  we 
feel,  or  gain  that  which  we  crave.  Here  there  is  none  asked  and 
none  to  be  had.  Europe  is  in  ignorance  or  in  opposition.  Eng- 
land suffers  in  her  only  sensitive  spot,  her  pocket,  and  turns 
upon  the  country  that  she  feared  in  prosperity  and  hates  in  ad- 
versity ;  while  famished  but  stiU  blatant  Southerners  flaunt  at 
the  hotels,  and  poison  the  sweet  surface  of  this  repubhcan  Lake 
of  Geneva  with  the  presence  of  their  banner  of  barbarism. 


IN  EUROPE.  383 

Two  montlis  and  a  half  suffice  most  American  travelers  for 
seeing  the  whole  continent.  We  have  revolved  in  a  narrow 
space  —  two  weeks  in  the  Black  Forest  portion  of  Germany, 
and  two  months  in  Switzerland.  But  our  views  have  been 
mostly  a-foot;  and  instead  of  glances  we  have  had  sight — 
instead  of  impressions,  conviction.  Our  tramp  in  the  Black 
Forest  country  was  a  fitting  prelude  to  Switzerland.  Its 
scenery  is  a  sweet  proem  to  the  Alps.  .  .  .  Save  the  fruit 
trees,  that  hne  the  roads  here  as  generally  throughout  Ger- 
many and  Switzerland,  there  is  often  not  a  tree  or  a  shrub  to 
be  seen  that  is  not  an  evergi-een  of  deepest,  darkest  hue.  The 
effect  of  the  long  succession  of  hiU-sides,  dotted  with  these 
firs  as  thickly  as  they  can  grow,  sending  out  their  sharp  needles 
into  the  air  at  every  angle — sometimes  proud  and  erect  to 
heaven,  then  drooping  as  if  in  somber  sorrow,  and  again  with 
hesitating  horizontahsm — is  magnificent  and  gi'and  in  the 
extreme.    You  think  of  Mrs.  Browning's 

"  Hills  running  up  to  heaven  for  light, 
Through  woods  that  half-way  ran ; 
As  if  the  wild  earth  mimicked  right 
The  wilder  heart  of  man; 
Only  the  hUls  are  greener  far, 
And  gladder,  than  hearts  ever  are." 

Yet  one  of  these  hill-sides,  when  in  shadow,  symbolizes  and 
sympathizes  with,  as  no  other  scenery  I  ever  beheld,  the  deep, 
unutterable  pathos  of  humanity.  It  looks  out  upon  you  hke  a 
great  human  soul  in  imperishable  and  unspeakable  sorrow. 
These  woods,  too,  are  the  paradise  of  mosses  and  ferns.  The 
amateur  in  these  should  make  a  special  pilgrimage  to  the  Black 
Forest.  The  mosses,  thick,  soft,  and  of  every  hue  of  green, 
shaded  with  yellow  and  red,  are  not  content  to  cover  the 
groimd  with  a  carpet  that  no  tapestry  can  rival,  but  often 
mount  the  trees  themselves,  and  clothe  the  trunks  and  branches 
with  their  fascinating  resurrection  life. 

Our  tour  of  Switzerland  has  been  quite  f uU  and  satisfying.  It 
is  certainly  a  very  delightful  country  when  the  sun  shines.  But 
for  its  full  appreciation,  besides,  are  needed  an  anti-dyspeptic 
stomach,  a  stout  pair  of  legs,  and  a  head  that  is  not  forever 


384     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

egotistically  reminding  you  of  its  existence.  .  .  .  No  coun- 
try has  such  contrasts,  such  variety  of  natural  scenery, —  the 
grave  and  the  gay,  the  beautiful  and  the  sublime, —  that  which 
woos  with  soft  poetic  grace,  and  that  which  oppresses  by  its 
majestic  severity.  Health  seems,  however,  to  be  in  all  its 
veins  ;  the  mountain  air  is  tonic,  like  perpetual  champagne  ;  it 
sets  the  soul  free  from  the  flesh,  the  body  falls  away  into  for- 
getfulness  under  its  inspii-ation,  while  the  lower  heights  and  the 
valleys,  and  particularly  the  lake  shores,  are  almost  universally 
soft,  dry,  and  equable.  .  .  .  Switzerland,  if  you  come  near 
to  her,  lasts,  while  the  rest  of  Europe  is  lost  in  your  soul  or 
only  remembered  as  a  faint  dream. 

.  .  .  These  later  weeks  in  Switzerland,  it  may  interest 
personal  acquaintances  to  know,  have  told  favorably  upon  my 
maladies.  The  brain  forgets  itself  sometimes,  and  the  nights 
are  not  all  profaned  by  wakefulness. 

The  more  fruitful  half  of  Mr.  Bowles's  working  life 
may  be  dated  from  his  seven  months  of  European  travel. 
No  immediate  recovery  showed  itself.  He  returned  to 
work  when  he  was  yet  by  no  means  fit  for  it.  He  was 
unable  for  years  to  do  his  old  amount  of  labor,  and,  as 
his  letters  will  show,  he  continued  for  some  time  to  be 
doubtful  of  the  issue  of  his  case.  But  in  the  half-year 
of  absence  and  rest  there  had  been  a  refilling  of  the 
exhausted  springs,  and  from  this  time  he  slowly  regained 
some  measure  of  the  old  vigor.  It  was  by  far  the  com- 
pletest  and  longest  rest  he  ever  gave  himself,  and  un- 
der conditions  the  most  favorable.  The  very  isolation 
from  society  which  he  so  constantly  lamented,  gave  the 
jaded  brain  that  rest  from  stimulation  which  it  needed, 
and  which  it  never  would  have  accepted  voluntarily.  If 
his  enjoyment  had  been  fuller  his  rest  would  have  been 
less. 

The  journey  included  several  weeks  in  Paris,  some 
days  in  the  Netherlands,  a  trip  up  the  Rhine,  and  a  walk- 
ing excursion  on  the  Moselle.    His  letters  show  with 


IN   EUKOPE.  385 

what  thoroughly  American  eyes  he  looked  on  all  he 
saw, —  how  entirely  he  belonged  to  his  own  country 
and  his  own  age.  In  Paris  he  goes  on  Sunday  to  the 
American  chapel,  hears  Dr.  McClintock  preach  on  gen- 
eral and  special  pro\ddence,  and  writes  to  a  home  corre- 
spondent of  that  favorite  old  problem  of  theologians. 
In  writing  of  the  churches  everywhere,  he  speaks  of 
hardly  anything  but  the  preaching.  Almost  his  only 
mention  of  Westminster  Abbey  is  a  complaint  of  the 
dull  sermon  he  hears  there.  Cologne  Cathedral  is  dis- 
posed of  in  five  lines.  He  was  too  wholly  a  child  of  the 
present  to  respond  to  that  spirit  of  the  past  which 
speaks  through  the  antique  services  of  cathedrals  and 
the  incomparable  architecture  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
Neither  history  nor  art  touched  him  with  any  such 
power  as  li\dng  humanity  and  external  nature.  It  is 
deeply  interesting  to  trace  the  growing  effect  upon  him 
of  high  mountain  scenery.  At  first,  the  snow-peaks 
strike  cold  and  alien  on  his  tired  and  sensitive  heart. 
Even  the  Jungfrau  and  her  sisters  are  to  him  simply 
"  great  masses  of  rock,  bald  and  bare,  save  where  cov- 
ered with  snow."  When  he  reaches  the  Gorner  Grat, 
before  the  Matterhorn  and  Monte  Rosa,  he  fully  owns 
the  sublimity  of  the  scene,  though  still  with  a  subdued 
regret  for  more  sootliing  and  picturesque  effects.  At 
Vevay,  when  the  sights  he  has  witnessed  have  had  time 
to  settle  to  right  proportion  in  his  mind,  he  writes  : 
''  Switzerland,  if  you  come  near  to  her,  lasts,  while  the 
rest  of  Europe  is  lost  in  your  soul  or  only  remembered 
as  a  faint  dream."  In  later  years,  when  he  had  re- 
visited Europe,  and  had  seen  and  described  the  western 
"  Switzerland  of  America,"  he  wrote  to  a  friend :  "  I 
ascribe  my  later  growth  of  heart  and  head  in  great  part 
to  the  inspiration  of  high  mountains.  There  is  noth- 
ing that  sinks  deeper,  spreads  wider,  lasts  longer." 
Vol.  I.— 25 


CHAPTER  XXX. 
Office  and  Home  :  Letters  (1863-1865). 

TO  the  Reiniblican  as  a  business  enterprise  the  war 
brought  increased  circulation,  larger  profits,  and 
the  power  to  strengthen  its  working  force.  It  had  little 
rivalry  in  its  immediate  field.  One  after  another,  several 
dailies  had  been  started  in  Springfield,  but  none  of  them 
could  maintain  themselves  against  so  strong  a  competi- 
tor. The  last  of  these  was  the  Argus,  a  Democratic 
paper,  which  was  set  up  for  the  Buchanan  campaign  in 
1857,  but  soon  went  down.  After  this,  the  Repuhlican 
had  no  rival  in  Springfield,  until,  in  January,  1864,  the 
Evening  Union  was  established  and  became  a  permanent 
institution,  though  for  its  first  eight  years  an  insignifi- 
cant one.  The  Hepuhlican  gave  a  cordial  paragraph  to 
the  Union  at  its  commencement,  saying  that  there  was 
room  and  opportunity  for  such  a  paper.  When  the 
Argus  died  it  had  chronicled  the  fact  under  its  regular 
heading  of  "  Deaths."  But  it  never  recognized  the  exist- 
ence of  its  local  rivals,  save  at  their  birth  or  death,  by  so 
much  as  a  word.  All  of  them  found  a  large  part  of  their 
material  in  a  warfare  against  the  ReimhUcan,  but  they 
never  could  get  the  satisfaction  of  a  syllable  in  reply. 
No  journal  had  livelier  controversies  with  other  papers 
than  the  Repuhlican,  but  it  would  not  wage  them  in  its 
own  town. 


OFFICE  AND   HOME:    LETTERS   (1S63-1S65).      387 

The  firm  of  Samuel  Bowles  and  Co.  continued  down  to 
1872  to  do  a  general  printing  and  binding  business  as 
well  as  to  publish  the  Bepuhlican.  It  was  one  of  the  first 
houses  in  the  country  to  begin,  in  1861,  the  manufacture 
of  photograph  albums,  and  within  three  years  it  was  at 
the  head  of  the  business  in  the  United  States,  employing 
one  hundred  hands  in  this  department  alone.  Leaving  as 
heretofore  the  general  business  mainly  to  the  care  of 
his  partners, —  among  whom  had  now  been  included  for 
some  years  his  brother,  Benjamin  F.  Bowles,  in  special 
charge  of  the  finances  and  accounts  of  the  concern, —  Mr. 
Bowles  was  now  able  to  so  enlarge  his  editorial  staff  that 
the  daily  work  of  the  Bepuhlican  was  provided  for  inde- 
pendently of  his  personal  presence,  leaving  him  free  to  do 
as  much  or  as  little  as  he  felt  able.  His  genius  for  select- 
ing, training,  and  using  men  now  came  into  full  play. 
He  gradually  surrounded  himself  with  a  group  of  young 
men,  some  of  whom  became  permanent  members  of  the 
staff,  while  the  greater  part,  after  two  or  three  years 
of  training,  were  graduated  to  other  fields  of  service. 
The  Repuhlican  office  came  to  be  recognized  as  a  school 
of  journalism.  It  educated  its  pupils  so  well  that  their 
services  became  more  valuable  than  the  paper  could 
afford  to  employ  in  its  subordinate  positions.  The  staff 
was  brought  to  complete  organization  in  1864.  Dr. 
Holland's  connection  with  the  paper  closed  about  this 
time,  though  in  1864  he  contributed  another  series  of 
Timothy  Titcomb  letters  under  the  title,  "  Letters  to  the 
Joneses."  Mr.  Hood  was,  after  Mr.  Bowles,  the  lead- 
ing editorial  writer.  William  M.  Pomeroy  was  made  the 
managing  editor  —  a  man  whose  fidelity  and  judgment 
Mr.  Bowles  could  thoroughly  trust,  and  in  whose  hands 
the  paper  was  safe  against  any  reckless  steering.  Under 
Mr.  Bowles's  training  he  grew  to  marked  skill  in  the 
range  of  work  which  his  chief  once  sketched  in  these 


388     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

terms:  "To  know  what  news  is,  and  where  to  find  it, 
and  how  to  present  it;  to  detect  the  truth  from  false- 
hood among  rumors  and  speculations ;  to  perceive  what 
is  probable  and  what  otherwise ;  to  learn  how  to  write 
a  paragraph  and  turn  a  news  item  and  make  a  heading ; 
to  insure  freshness  and  correctness  in  detail;  to  know 
what  to  put  in  and  what  to  leave  out, — to  learn,  in  short, 
how  to  edit  a  paper,  is  something  very  different  and  very 
much  more  difiScult  than  to  know  how  to  write  for  one. 
There  are  many  good  writers  in  this  country,  but  there 
are  very  few  good  editors."  At  this  time  Joseph  H.  Ship- 
ley was  night  editor.  Charles  H.  Sweetser,  afterward 
editor  of  the  Bound  Table,  gave  place  after  a  few  months 
of  service  to  Edward  H.  Phelps,  who  took  charge  of  the 
local  department,  including  the  whole  New  England  field. 
At  this  time,  and  for  a  number  of  years,  the  literary 
editor  was  Mrs.  Frances  H.  Cook,  a  lady  of  fine  intellect- 
ual accomplishments,  and  a  thorough  and  careful  worker. 
Some  of  the  ablest  reviews  were  written  by  Mr.  Hood, 
and  outside  contributors  were  occasionally  employed  in 
this  department.  The  paper  still  gave  that  large  con- 
sideration to  literary  topics  which  it  originally  derived 
from  Dr.  Holland.  Of  its  regular  correspondents  the 
most  noticeable  was  "Warrington," — William  S.  Robin- 
son, whose  Boston  letters  covered  most  of  the  years  be- 
tween the  birth  of  the  Republican  party  and  the  Greeley 
revolt.  He  was  strongly  anti-slavery  and  radical,  often  a 
long  way  beyond  the  paper  itself  in  these  directions,  well 
informed  in  all  the  personalities  of  politics,  a  sharp  con- 
troversialist and  a  dangerous  foe,  and  caustic  to  a  degree 
which  gave  constant  exasperation  to  a  large  part  of  the 
paper's  readers.  In  the  Bepuilican's  salad  he  was  the 
cayenne  pepper.  The  Washington  correspondent  was 
D.  W.  Bartlett,  under  the  signature  of  "  Van."  Outside 
of  its  regular  force  the  paper  had  contributors  not  a  few, 


OFFICE   AND   HOME:    LETTERS   (1863-1865).       389 

some  of  whom  first  won  in  its  columns  a  reputation 
which  grew  beyond  the  provincial  field.  Among  its 
writers  at  different  times  were  Bret  Harte, —  who  was 
first  introduced  to  an  Eastern  audience  in  its  columns, — 
Edward  King,  Frank  B.  Sanborn,  "Washington  Gladden, 
David  Ames  Wells,  Prof.  A.  L.  Perry,  Charles  H.  Webb, 
Alice  Gary,  Mary  Clemmer  Ames,  Kate  Field,  Caroline 
S.  Whitmarsh,  and  Adeline  Trafton. 

In  1860,  besides  Mr.  Bowles  and  Dr.  Holland,  there 
were  only  three  men  in  the  editorial  office ;  in  1864,  Mr. 
Bowles  had  a  staff  of  seven  assistants ;  and  in  1877,  the 
last  year  of  his  life,  the  number  had  grown  to  fourteen. 
Until  the  changes  in  the  office  in  1872,  Mr.  Pomeroy  and 
Mr.  Phelps  remained  his  chief  lieutenants.  For  this 
period  of  about  eight  years,  he  was  more  the  master  of  his 
own  time  than  ever  before  or  after.  The  paper  was  still 
his  absorbing  interest,  but  no  longer  to  the  same  degree 
as  before  his  inexorable  taskmaster.  He  lightened  his 
labor,  too,  by  learning  to  dictate  his  articles  to  a  stenog- 
rapher. Ultimately  he  used  the  same  method  in  most 
of  his  private  correspondence.  But  in  the  case  of  his 
editorials,  he  at  last,  after  several  years,  directed  his 
amanuensis  to  write  in  long-hand,  except  in  the  case  of 
brief  paragraphs,  saying  that  the  quicker  method  tempted 
him  to  be  too  diffuse  and  careless.  Whatever  work  he 
did  on  the  paper  he  did  at  high  pressure.  "I  have  known 
him,"  says  one  of  his  assistants,  "  to  keep  five  good  com- 
positors steadily  engaged  on  his  copy."  Every  man  on 
the  paper  felt  the  chiefs  eye  on  his  work.  "  Sometimes," 
says  one  of  them,  "  he  would  take  up  the  file  of  the  paper 
for  a  week  when  I  thought  I  had  been  doing  pretty  well, 
and  go  through  my  work,  and  completely  riddle  it.  It 
was  fine  training  for  me."  The  daily  stint  was  no 
light  one  in  those  times.  Mr.  Shipley,  the  night  editor, 
thus  describes  his  daily  routine :  "  I  went  to  the  office  as 


390     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

soon  as  I  was  up  —  about  noon.  The  afternoon  was 
spent  in  reading  the  general  exchanges,  and  woe  to  me 
if  I  overlooked  anything!  Then  I  had  charge  of  the 
night  work,  from  7  P.  M.  to  3  a.  m.  That  was  the  regular 
labor  assigned  to  me,  and  Mr.  Bowles  said,  '  You'll  find 
it  about  enough ;  but  if  you  see  anything  else  you  can 
do,  try  it.'  So  I  did  try  my  hand  at  condensations,  then 
at  editorials,  etc.,  and  his  praise  and  encouragement 
helped  me  on." 

In  1864,  the  residence  on  Maple  street  was  exchanged 
for  one  on  Central  street,  which  had  been  built  and 
occupied  by  Francis  Tiffany,  the  pastor  of  the  Unitarian 
Church,  and  a  personal  friend  of  Mr.  Bowles.  The  new 
house  was  larger,  better  built,  and  more  commodious 
than  the  old  one ;  it  stood  in  close  neighborhood  to  the 
beautiful  cemetery,  and  was  surrounded  by  shade-trees 
and  shrubbery.  Mr.  Bowles  threw  himself  with  hearty 
enjoyment  into  the  work  of  finishing  and  planting  the 
grounds.  He  had  a  relish  for  the  cultivation  of  the  earth, 
and  no  mean  knowledge  of  the  farmer's  and  gardener's 
art.  Here  was  his  home  for  the  rest  of  his  life,  here  his 
children  grew  up,  and  here  was  exercised  a  generous  hos- 
pitality to  a  various  and  brilliant  circle  of  guests. 

The  best  illustrations  of  the  personal  and  home  life  of 
this  period  are  given  by  his  private  letters. 

To  F.  B.  Sanborn. 

Feb.  16,  1863. 
If  the  Commomcealth  enterprise  were  mine,  and  I  desired 
alike  its  success  and  its  power  for  good,  I  should  make  it  the 
representative  of  the  extreme  right  of  the  Republican  party, 
— of  Sumner,  Andrew,  Chase,  Stanton,  Amasa  Walker,  etc., — 
and  not  of  the  Wendell  Phillips  school.  I  would  have  it  very 
positive,  earnest,  and  enthusiastic,  sometimes  perhaps  a  httle 
malignant,  but  bearing,  on  the  whole,  with  as  much  patience  as 


OFFICE   AND   HOME:    LETTERS   (1S63-1865).       391 

possible,  vnth.  the  more  laggard  and  conservative  elements  of 
the  party, —  with  Lincoln,  Seward,  and  with  Boston,  etc. ;  and 
remembering  always  the  chief  duty  of  giving  the  most  constant 
blows  to  the  common  enemy, —  that  there  are  various  ways  of 
fighting  battles  in  this  world, —  that  strategy,  flank  movements, 
patient  waiting  and  pleading,  and  even  digging,  have  their 
uses  and  their  reasons,  as  well  as  open  front  assaults,  and  that, 
though  the  latter  was  our  style  and  choice,  we  must  not  forget 
that  those  who  used  the  other  means  were  also  our  allies.  I 
should  be  full  of  the  *'  Come  up  hither !  "  and  not  repulse  by  too 
much  denunciation  and  want  of  candor  our  fi'iends  and  allies. 
Such  a  paper,  properly  published  and  edited,  and  backed 
by  somebody's  pocket  for  a  year  or  two,  will  soon  become  self- 
supporting  and  a  power  in  New  England  and  Boston,  and  very 
Ukely  make  'the  basis  of  a  daily.  Such  we  need,  Boston  needs, 
and  New  England  needs. 

You  propose  to  grasp  too  much  in  your  details.  You  would 
want  a  sheet  of  twice  the  size,  and  that  is  not  possible  now.  It 
seems  to  me  you  should  seize  two  or  three  strong  points: 
1,  pohtical  position  with  the  foremost  Eepubhcans ;  2,  identifi- 
cation with  the  use  and  development  of  the  negro,  theoretically 
and  practically  ;  and,  3,  hteratui-e  of  choice  and  original  char- 
acter. Thus,  I  would — keeping  the  paper  of  form  and  size 
as  now,  for  the  present,  but  gi'V'ing  it  the  tj'pographic  air  of 
a  journal  of  the  19th  instead  of  the  18th  century  —  give  up 
the  first  page  to  political  selections,  documents,  speeches, 
pubhc  opinion,  etc. ;  the  second  and  third  pages  to  editorials 
—  not  too  many,  say  two  of  a  column  and  f ovir  of  a  quarter- 
column,  and  half  a  dozen  shorter  and  biting  editorial  para- 
graphs—  and  correspondence  and  news  ;  and  the  fourth  page 
to  literature.  As  to  correspondence,  a  weekly  letter  from 
Washington,  and  one  from  New  York,  or  once  a  fortnight 
perhaps  as  well,  should  be  your  chief  rehance.  These  should 
be  written  by  people  of  sense  as  well  as  talent  —  no  Gurowski 
stuff,  except  as  an  occasional  salad  —  should  be  gossipy,  specu- 
lative, and  newsy ;  that  from  New  York  should  make  art  and 
hterature  leading  themes,  and  may  be  by  a  woman  —  better, 
indeed.      They  should  both  be  paid  for,  at  $5  each.    As  to 


392     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

army  correspondence,  when  you  can  get  some  good,  and  from 
leading  points,  have  it.  Poor  is  abominable,  and  rather  than 
that  read  and  select  from  the  New  York  papers.  For  news, 
there  should  be  a  compact  review  of  the  week  of  say 
two  colunms,  and  then  a  column  or  so  of  items,  fresh  and 
piquant, —  nothing  more.  Let  the  farmer,  the  mechanic,  and 
all  other  specialties,  slide  —  make  your  paper  for  men  and 
women,  not  for  specialists.  And  yet,  if  you  can  have  once 
in  a  while  a  strong,  suggestive,  fresh  article  on  special  and 
side  themes,  right  well.  But  don't  have  a  paper  of  depart- 
ments. As  to  literature  —  variety,  freshness,  and  a  higher 
character  than  any  American  paper  has,  or  ever  had.  Avoid, 
as  a  rule,  continued  stories,  though  they  may  be  very  well  as 
an  exception,  if  very,  very  good.  A  good,  short,  piquant  story 
of  three  or  four  columns  once  a  fortnight,  and  for  the  rest, 
reviews  of  new  books,  selections,  choice  discussions,  literary 
reminiscences,  etc.  You  ought  to  make  this  the  second  great 
feature  of  your  paper,  and  keep  the  negro  out  of  it.  Let  it  be 
such  that  people  wiU,  must,  take  the  paper  for  that  alone, 
if  rejecting  the  other. 

There,  that  wiU  do,  I  guess.  I  hope  you  wiU  be  "  master  of 
your  situation,"  and  be  able  to  say  no,  not  only  to  everybody 
else  but  to  yourself.  A  newspaper  should  have  its  own  indi- 
viduahty  and  conscience  apart  from  any  man,  and  the  "  able 
editor"  is  the  man  who  can  respect  that  more  than  his  own 
passion.  If  you  succeed,  you  will  find  you  must  keep  some- 
where near  the  people,  not  abreast,  but  not  so  far  ahead 
as  not  to  be  seen  and  appreciated.  A  great  newspaper  is  not 
a  reformer,  not  a  radicahst,  but  may  be  and  should  be  a 
leader  —  a  go-between  for  the  head  men  and  the  masses.  But 
this  is  not  to  your  purpose  now,  though  it  should  not  be  for- 
gotten. In  lajing  the  foundation,  it  is  well  to  be  conspicuous 
and  ultra.  A  minority  is  always  more  radical  than  a  majority. 
But  don't  put  yourself  out  of  the  pale  of  the  world.  An  indi- 
vidual can  be  Wendell  Phillips  or  M.  D.  Conway,  but  a  news- 
paper cannot,  and  have  circulation  and  tolerance. 

As  to  times  and  men,  of  what  use  to  prophesy  or  pass  judg- 
ment *?   The  present  duty  is  clear  —  to  push  on  the  war,  conquer 


OFFICE   AND    HOME:    LETTERS   (18G3-1865).       393 

all  "sve  can,  as  fast  as  we  can,  and  stir  up  the  "  social  institution" 
of  the  South  as  deeply  as  possible.  "We  may  have  to  stop,  or  be 
stopped,  any  time.  The  future  is  not  clear.  But  what  we  want 
is  to  make  sure  that  slavery^  shall  be  destroyed,  whether  there 
be  peace  or  war.  The  white  man  seems  to  have  failed  us,  and 
so  the  black  man,  as  yet ;  but  God  is  on  our  side,  and  it  must 
come  right.  Butler  is  playing  poker  with  fortune,  and  plays 
as  always  desperately.  He  is  to  be  trusted  as  far  as  he  gives 
security.  But  he  is  a  bold,  bad  man,  with  quick  instincts, 
sudden  resolutions,  and  desperate  resorts.  He  makes  great 
successes  and  great  failures.  It  is  disgusting,  the  way  some 
of  your  people  favor  him,  yet  he  deserves  praise,  recogni- 
tion, and  authority  —  and  yet  must  be  watched.  I  see  no 
reason  to  question  Banks.  He  riijens  more  slowly  than  I 
expected,  and  has  done  nothing  yet.  But  he  beheves  in 
God  and  progress  and  regeneration,  and  wiU  not  cheat  us. 
Give  him  a  fair  chance.  He  may  fail  —  he  may  not  dare 
enough  —  sometimes  he  distrusts  himself  and  the  people  and 
hesitates  —  but  when  his  moments  of  inspiration  come,  they 
are  all  right. 

I  wish  you  would  come  and  see  me,  and  then  we  would  talk 
over  all  these  matters.  I  am  glad  you  are  man-ied,  and  are 
taking  strong  hold  of  life.  I  wish  you  every  success,  and  am 
sure  you  have  the  opportunity  and  the  power. 

This  is  rapidly,  badly  written  —  but  I  hope  you  can  spell  it 
out.  You  will  find  it  difficult  to  get  such  correspondents  as  you 
wish,  or  such  other  writing  ;  but  keep  your  purpose  high,  and 
they  will  come  after  a  while.  A  newspaper  is  a  slow  growth, 
and  there  is  a  great  lack  of  ready  newspaper  talent  in 
America. 

To  Miss  Whitney. 

May^  1863. 

.  .  .  The  Atwater  farm  property  is  put  before  me  again 
by  Mr.  A.'s  pressing  my  purchase.  It  is  quite  temptations,  but 
too  big  for  me.  Yet  I  shaU  coquet  with  it  a  httle.  I  have  of 
late  a  passion  for  real  property,  knowing  that  it  survives  wars, 
crises,  and  even  death  —  and  that  the  rest  of  my  possessions 


394     THE   LIFE   A^^D   TIMES   OF    SAMUEL   B0^T:.ES. 

hardly  will.*  Mary  is  pretty  well  this  week,  and  we  are  both 
busy  with  spring  cares  and  work.  This  afternoon  we  have  our 
usual  Saturday  dinner  with  some  old  boyhood  friends  of  mine. 
I  love  to  keep  up,  after  a  fashion,  all  the  old  acquaintanceships, 
and  revive  my  young  friendships  and  feelings.  They  freshen 
hfe,  and  they  serve  greatly  to  keep  us  in  sjTupathy  with  oui* 
ehildi'en's  wants  and  feelings  and  fancies.  It  is  not  much  that 
I  do  for  my  children,  but  I  never  want  to  lose  sight  of  myself  at 
their  ages  —  then  the  little  I  do  can  be  done  more  inteUigently. 

There  is  need  of  new  patience  and  faith  in  the  war.     I  am 

glad  I  do  not  see  Mrs. often.     She  has  always  all  the 

badness  of  things  and  people.  And  I  had  rather  not  know, 
since  I  cannot  largely  help.  The  fight  goes  on  tiU  slavery^  is 
thoroughly  uprooted — that  seems  to  be  it.  And  we  must  carry 
it  on,  so  far  as  possible,  with  negro  soldiers.  The  government 
seems  to  reahze  this.  Organize  the  negroes,  and  put  them  to 
service,  offensive  and  defensive  ;  make  them  work  out  the  free- 
dom of  their  race. 

I  shall  read  Faustina,  because  it  stands  for  something  to  you. 
I  feel  strongly,  however,  that  I  shall  not  hke  it.  The  closing 
sentences  seem  the  key,  and  such  stories  I  do  not  like.  They 
lessen  what  is  waning  too  fast  in  me  for  my  happiness  —  trust 
and  faith  in  man  and  woman.  They  sap  that  reverence  for 
woman  —  that  holy  worship  —  that  was  early  and  deep  in  me, 
but  does  not  seem  so  strong  as  it  was.  I  cling  to  all  and  everj' 
thing  that  freshens  and  inspires  it.  The  characters,  the  books, 
the  people,  that  strengthen  the  waning  faiths  of  hard  expe- 
rience, that  bring  back  youth  and  ideals,  that  bring  the  good 
and  the  great  and  the  unselfish  into  prominence  and  activity — 
rather  than  the  opposites  —  are  the  characters,  the  books,  the 
people,  I  seek  and  need.  I  am  afraid  I  don't  have  so  much 
faith  in  myself  as  I  used  to,  as  I  ought  to,  as  is  best  for  me  and 
my  content.  Perhaps  that  is  the  trouble.  So  much  higher  do 
people  rate  me  than  I  deserve  that  it  causes  me  to  react  against 
myself.     But  don't  you  dare  to  put  me  lower!     To  you  and 

*  In  fact,  however,  it  so  happened  that  a  part  of  Mr.  Bowles's  real  estate 
investments  proved  ultimately  an  embarrassment,  while  his  newspaper 
was  a  steady  source  of  revenue  during  his  life-time  and  afterward. 


OFFICE   AND   HOME:    LETTERS   (1863-18G5).       395 

Mary  and  the  children  I  must  always  be  great  —  else  the  school 
would  be  dismissed ! 

June,  1863. 

.  .  .  How  warm  and  sticky  the  days  are  getting ;  it  fright- 
ens me  that  the  summer  comes  on  so  fast  and  far,  and  we 
have  had  no  horseback  rides.  But  the  nights  are  compensat- 
ing to  those  who  are  then  aUve  and  fresh.  These  splendid 
moonlights  will  be  gone  ere  you  get  to  Hastings,  and  won't 
distract  you  from  man's  identity,  and  geologic  strata,  and  such ! 
I  am  glad  of  it,  for  your  sake !  It  must  be  trying  for  such 
many-sided  people  to  be  tempted  in  all  ways  at  once !  Com- 
mend me  to  your  narrow,  one-stringed  fiddles  of  humanity 
for  content  and  peace  and  happiness. 

Fix  it  as  I  will,  my  days  seem  crowded  and  huiTied  with  care 
—  always  more  left  over  than  is  done.  The  mere  running  of  a 
daily  paper  like  the  Republican  produces  friction  enough  to  keep 
one  set  of  nerves  on  the  stretch.  There  is  always  some  line 
somewhere  that  grates  on  somebody, —  a  name  wrong  in  a  mar- 
riage, a  birth  that  didn't  happen,  that  the  "editor-in-chief  "  and 
nobody  else  must  hear  all  about,  and  apologize  for  and  cor- 
rect. Hood's  absence,  too,  gives  me  a  large  share  of  the  detail. 
Think  of  your  friend  collating  rehgious  intelligence  !  But  that 
is  one  of  the  things  I  do  well.  I  have  a  soul  for  the  petty 
strifes  of  parishes,  and  take  delight  in  disciphning  good  men — 
to  say  naught,  as  you  know,  of  good  women. 

Did  I  tell  you  Mary's  dehcious  scheme  for  a  piano  present  to 

failed  ?    It  was  too  bad.     It  required  $50  each  from  some 

six  or  eight  to  insure  it,  and  only  two  or  three  were  prompt 
and  hearty.     The  rest  absolutely  refused. 

Sunday,  June,  1863. 
Talk  of  Hastings-on-the-Hudson  !  You  should  see  Spring- 
field-on-the-Connecticut,  this  blessed  June  Sunday  morning ! 
It  is  the  "  perfect  day."  The  rain  is  over,  the  green  at  its 
full,  the  sun  not  too  kind, —  the  love  of  friendship,  not  of  pas- 
sion,— and  the  bobolink's  song  comes  up  from  the  lower  meadow 
and  steals  in  the  open  window.  The  air  is  the  breath  of  roses 
and  grass  and  leaves,  cool  and  sweet,  and  only  silence  is 


396     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

golden.  To  speak  above  a  whisper  would  seem  sacrilege  — 
would  break  this  sacramental  beauty  of  morning.  Come  and 
see  if  it  be  not  so.  But  speak  not,  upon  your  peril.  You  can- 
not, with  all  your  tongues,  including  Greek !  improve  upon  the 
stiU  small  voices  of  the  lower  orders, —  the  pushing  vegetable^ 
life,  the  grasshoppers,  the  birds,  the  frogs, —  all  ripening  into 
ultimate  disagi'eeable,  fretting,  anxious,  exacting  man !  No ; 
I  reject  the  development  theory !  The  growth  is  backwards. 
Reverse  Darwin  and  Huxley,  and  I  will  beheve.  Pity  the  poor 
bird,  happy  now,  that  shoiild  be  a  girl,  anxious  and  unhappy 
about  her  spring  bonnet.  Let  us  "  go  to  grass  "  rather  than  go 
on  to  more  unhappy  man. 

Our  company  is  gone  ;  we  are  alone  with  our  garden  and  the 
baby  and  Pone.  I  have  cut  "  morning  service,"  and  am  going 
to  drive  with  Mary  and  the  small  boy  —  he  with  a  dreadful 
mumps-looking  face,  because  of  teeth  that  wiU  come,  and  yet, 
fearing  their  fate,  hesitate  —  and  in  the  conflict  huii;. 

There  is  nothing  else  fresh  in  our  Hves.  Mary  is  really  better 
and  stronger  and  happier, —  and  I  grow  buoyant  under  the 
inspiration. 

It  is  pleasant  to  feel  that  you  are  ha\ang  such  a  gay  time 
with  your  friends.  We  try  to  think  it  would  be  even  better 
here, — but  I  am  afraid  don't  succeed  in  the  delusion.  How- 
ever, we  do  what  we  can ;  and  what  more  would  j^ou  ask  ? 
"  She  has  done  what  she  could  "  was  the  finest  epitaph  ever 
written.  I  shouldn't  hunger  for  any  other,  if  I  could  reach  that. 
— When  you  have  tried  them  all,  come  back  to  us,  and  try  us 
over ;  and  be  the  morning  Uke  this  you  shall  be  content  —  for 
the  last  of  such  mornings  is  the  finest  that  ever  was,  and 
sends  the  soul  to  its  higher  level.  Beside,  there  be  fi'esh  straw- 
berries and  green  peas  here,  and  I  am  sure  the  earnaUties  are 
not  wholly  extinct  in  you.  You  will  come  back  from  Greek  and 
Pre- Adamite- dom  and  Braceville,  to  breakfast  —  I  am  certain. 

And  so,  nothing  new —  we  give  you  the  old  ;  we  have  nothing 
better :  it  is  our  best. 

June,  1863. 

We  do  not  permit  our  selfish  satisfaction  that  you  are  not  to 
leave  us  for  so  far  and  long  to  cover  our  grief  with  you  at  the 


OFFICE   AND   HOME:    LETTEKS   (1S63-1S65).       397 

loss  of  the  beloved  and  blessed  sister.  Believe  that  both  Mary 
and  I  are  touched  with  the  tragic  fate  that  has  fallen  upon  her, 
away  from  home  and  friends,  and  are  in  deep  appreciation 
and  sjTnpathy  with  you.  That  remorse  that  death  brings 
to  those  that  are  left  has  been  often  in  my  mind,  deeply 
and  sadly,  of  late ;  and  I  am  sure  it  is  much  easier  to  be  the 
one  to  go  than  to  stay.  It  is  inevitable  to  every  tender  heart, 
however  self-saciificing  and  devoted  it  may  have  been.  Do  aU 
we  may  or  can,  none  of  us  can  do  everything, —  and  there  wUl 
ever  be  the  after-thought  that  we  might  have  done  more,  tor- 
tui-ing  oui'  hves,  and  mocking  the  bhss  of  the  memory.  And 
yet  could  we  know  the  heart  away,  we  should  probably  find  it 
blessing  us  for  what  we  had  done,  and  with  never  a  thought 
that  we  could  or  should  have  done  more  for  it.  Only  we, 
foi-tunately,  know  our  failures  ;  and,  alas,  how  well  we  know 
them  !  And  yet,  out  of  our  very  selfishness,  out  of  our  very 
neglect,  God  buildeth  us  up  ;  so  that  what  we  do  perform  for 
kindred  and  friends  takes  on  larger  power  and  gives  deeper 
bhss  than  if  in  a  narrow  way  we  had  given  more  hours  and 
thought  and  sei"vice  to  the  beloved.  It  is  a  shadowy,  tender 
hne  between  service  to  oui'selves  and  service  to  others. 

But  think  of  other  things  in  connection  with  the  sister. 
There  must  be  many  a  pleasant,  grateful  thought  of  your  deep 
sjTBpathizing  natural  exchanges,  of  her  life  as  locked  with 
yours,  of  her  memory,  and  of  her  character.  Gather  hold  of 
aU  that  enlarges  and  ennobles  her  place  in  yoiir  heart,  and  do 
not  let  the  black  cloud  overshadow  or  dim  it.  She  will  be  ever 
to  you  an  inspu-ation  and  a  guide.  Only  think  of  what  you 
might  have  done  for  her  and  did  not,  to  prompt  to  clearer  duty 
hereafter.  I  always  think  of  this  lately, —  I  hardly  know  why, 
since  I  am  no  more  likely  to  go  first  than  those  who  will  most 
miss  me, —  that  I  must  not  do,  or  omit  to  do,  that  which  if  one 
among  those  to  whom  my  Uf e  is  locked  should  die,  would  leave 
a  sting  and  a  sorrow  in  my  whole  life.  Of  course  it  does  not 
always  check  the  hasty  word,  the  unjust  thought,  the  neglected 
duty ;  but  "  it  helps  weel,"  as  the  Scotchman  said. 

I  want  to  know  more  about  your  sister.  We  must  talk  largely 
and  freely  of  her.    She  must  indeed  have  been  large-headed 


398     THE  LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

and  large-hearted  to  have  taken  such  a  hold  upon  all  yovir 
family,  and  upon  your  nature  especially.  Pray  let  me  know 
her  fully,  and  learn  to  admire  and  love  her  character  and  her 
soul. 

These  are  hot,  oppressive  days.  In  spite  of  much  discom- 
fort, I  am  pretty  well,  in  some  respects  better  than  usual.  I 
cannot  get  away,  as  I  meant  to  before  this,  because  I  must 
wait  and  see  where  the  draft  strikes  in  our  estabUshment,  and 
what  havoc  it  wiU  create.  I  hope  to  run  away  Saturday  or 
Monday  for  an  exploring  tour  along  the  coast,  to  get  a  snuff 
myself,  and  find  a  spot  for  Miss  Easter  and  the  children  for  two 
or  three  weeks. 

Evening.  Affairs  are  so  threatening  all  around  —  riots  every- 
where, and  confusion  and  doubt  —  that  I  shall  not  think  of 
leaving  my  post  tiU  the  air  is  clearer.  A  bold,  decisive,  mili- 
tary suppression  of  the  New  York  mob  would  have  settled 
everything;  now,  the  draft  must  be  abandoned,  or  several 
cities  put  under  mihtary  surveillance. 

East  Eden,  Me.  [Bar  Harbor] ,  August,  1863. 
.  .  .  The  point  of  doubt  as  to  recovery  lies  in  the  hver,  I 
think, —  the  rest  may  be  managed  with  time  and  care ;  that 
may  be  so  dulled  as  to  defy  all  effort,  as  it  probably  does  all 
ordinary  medication.  It  is  at  least  a  rather  settled,  hard  case 
of  nervous  dyspepsia, —  and  I,  as  weU  as  all  my  friends  who 
propose  to  stick  to  me,  have  need  of  all  patience  and  indulgence 
with  its  caprices,  its  vagaries,  and  its  incapacities.  One  thing 
I  have  strongly  resolved  on ;  to  resort  to  an  effort  of  will  as 
rarely  and  as  hghtly  as  possible  for  any  purpose  of  reading, 
writing,  or  working.  My  wiU  has  carried  me  for  years  beyond 
my  mental  and  physical  power;  that  has  been  the  offending 
rock, —  and  now,  beyond  that  desirable  in  keeping  my  temper, 
and  forcing  me  up  to  proper  exercise  and  cheerfulness  through 
light  occupation,  I  mean  to  call  upon  it  not  at  all,  if  I  can 
help  it  —  and  to  do  only  what  comes  freely  and  spontaneously 
from  the  overflow  of  power  and  hfe.  This  will  make  me  a  light 
reader,  a  small  worker,  and  a  poor  and  irregular  correspondent. 
WlU  you,  my  friend,  to  whom  I  owe  so  much,  and  who  appeal 


OFFICE   AND   HOME:    LETTEES    (1863-1865).       399 

to  me  so  strongly  in  all  intellectual  and  emotional  ways,  have 
patience  and  indulgence  with  me  in  this  resolution, —  and  help 
me  to  carry  it  out  ?  I  cannot  always  write  to  you,  even  when 
there  is  time  and  much  to  say,  because  it  is  hard  to  come  to  you 
with  mere  nothings ;  you  inevitably  appeal  to  my  best,  and  I 
shrink  from  and  put  off  writing  to  you  often  because  I  cannot 
make  up  my  mind  to  give  you  poor  thought  or  none  at  aU, 
and  there  is  spirit  and  power  for  nothing  more.  The  indis- 
position to  read,  or  even  to  be  read  to,  is  quite  singular  with 
me.    This  fortnight  I  have  been  here  I  have  read  nothing ;  and 

M has  only  read  to  me  once  for  half  an  hour,  and  then 

with  no  interest  at  all  on  my  part.  I  do  not  think  well  to  yield 
to  it  altogether  ;  hght,  instructive  reading  is  better  than  loose, 
morbid  thinking, —  and  yet  even  here  1  am  sure  the  path  of 
safety  is  not  to  force  myself  beyond  the  jioint  of  fuU  pleasure 
and  lively  interest. 

M has  enjoyed  her  trip  and  visit  very  much ;  though  I 

have  been  able  to  contribute  nothing  to  it  save  the  bringing 
her.  She  has  fitted  in  well  with  the  rest  of  the  company,  and 
entered  heartily  into  all  the  excursions  and  amusements.  She 
is  disposed  to  be  too  grateful  for  the  opportunity.  Such  gifts 
are  of  the  smallest  and  cheapest  of  generosities.  The  things  we 
omit  to  do  — what  we  withhold  —  often  cost  the  most.  The  un- 
seen gifts  are  the  largest ;  those  of  charity,  love,  forgiveness, 
patience,  and  self-restraint,  and  of  these  people  give  me  more 
than  I  can  possibly  give  them. 

Under  favorable  stomachic  influences,  I  find  my  muscular 
power  quite  fresh  and  responsive.  I  have  taken  several  rough 
walks  of  six  and  eight  miles  with  good  effects  on  the  whole ; 

and  yesterday  I  led  M up  a  high  mountain, —  an  hour  and 

a  half  up  and  an  hour  down.  She  faltered  a  little  going  up, 
but  stood  it  on  the  whole  well,  and  comes  out  to-day  better  than 
ever. 

I  long  to  be  at  home  again.  Every  absence  endears  more 
and  more  the  valley  and  its  possessions  to  me.  I  feel  there 
some  power,  some  ownership ;  away,  I  am  "  nothing  to  no- 
body," and  nobody  anything  to  me.  There  is  my  native  soil  — 
my  field,  my  hfe  —  all  that  I  have  done,  aU  I  can  hope  to 


400     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

do  —  and  there  the  six  feet  by  two  of  Mother  Earth  that  is  all 
I  can  hope  to  call  my  own  beyond  the  fleeting  years  of  this 
generation. 

The  following  letters  were  among  those  written  to  his 
wife,  when  she,  with  Miss  Whitney  as  a  companion,  was 
in  New  York  at  the  Brevoort  House,  again  under  the 
care  of  Dr.  Barker,  at  the  time  of  the  birth  of  another 
son,  named  Dwight. 

October,  1863. 

The  children  are  first-rate  —  never  better  —  fact,  and  no 
rose-coloring.  I  am  pretty  well  —  a  trifling  cold,  and  the  old 
headache,  but  better  than  usual, —  happy  and  hopeful,  as  be- 
fits a  man  with  the  elements  of  joy  in  his  hfe  that  I  have. 

Great  crowd  here  to  the  convention.  Springfield  all  full,  and 
running  over  into  Chicopee  and  Holyoke  and  perhaps  North- 
ampton. Great  many  Unitarians  this  year,  especiahy  sisters, 
who  like  to  visit  the  Connecticut  Valley  at  this  beautiful  sea- 
son of  the  year,  and  get  free  board.  Mr.  Putnam  came  this 
noon,  the  Robinsons  to-night.  Mr.  P.  has  not  come  home  to 
tea ;  gone  probably  with  some  of  the  sisters  of  his  flock  who 
are  up  here  with  him. 

Everything  going  on  rapidly  at  greenhouse  and  barn ;  both 
will  be  pretty  much  finished  this  week  5  then,  ho  for  grading, 
draining,  fencing,  planting !  Margaret's  nephew,  or  "  niece," 
as  he  introduced  himself  to  me  to-day,  has  come  from  "  over 
the  say,"  and  I  have  set  him  at  work.  He  starts  off;  Uke  a 
steam-engine. 

Let  me  have  a  word  every  day  from  one  of  you,  to  know  how 
you  get  along — don't  write  much  yourself ;  it  exhausts  head  and 
heart,  and  makes  you  nei-vous  more  than  anything  you  can  do. 

The  weather  is  beautiful  —  between  nine  and  five.  Mora- 
ings  and  evenings,  cold  and  damp,  and  grapple  with  you  hke  a 
vice.     I  am  so  glad  you  are  out  of  this  wretched  climate. 

Live  well  —  count  every  joy  and  comfort  twice  —  and  forget 
those  you  miss  —  but  don't  forget  your  always  loving  husband. 

My  most  profound  bow,  my  heartiest  faith,  to  the  contents 
of  the  other  blue  dress ! 


OFFICE  AND   HOME:   LETTERS   (1863-1865).       401 

During  these  weeks  the  Eepublicmi  is  unusually  brill- 
iant ;  there  is  no  mistaking  the  chief's  presence  and  in- 
spiration. The  discussion  of  the  war  prospects  is  wise, 
steady,  and  hopeful.  The  Unitarian  National  Convention 
is  reported  intelligently  and  sympathetically,  apparently 
by  Mr.  Bowles.  The  summing  up  is  by  him,  beyond 
doubt.  It  is  warmly  commendatory.  "Not  a  stupid 
thing  nor  an  unpleasant  thing  was  said."  Some  of  the 
talk  was  too  fine-spun  for  edification.  "In  the  discus- 
sions, especially  on  the  last  day,"  when  the  topics  were 
such  as  optimism,  the  question  whether  all  evil  is  but 
disguised  good,  etc.,  "  there  was  manifest  the  old  effort, 
ever  recurring,  to  get  upon  God's  side  of  the  universe, 
and  see  the  Infinite  through  finite  eyes,  in  which  origi- 
nate all  the  puzzles  and  contradictions  of  the  theologies. 
Perhaps  those  who  attempted  it  thought  they  succeeded, 
but  it  cannot  be  done,  and  all  inferences  from  what  men 
suppose  they  see  on  that  side  are  phantasms  and  falla- 
cies." "  The  talk  against  creeds  amounts  to  little.  Uni- 
tarians are  just  as  strenuous  in  their  negations  as  others 
are  in  their  affirmations,  and  have  no  more  toleration 
for  the  ideas  they  think  false  than  other  Christians." 
As  to  the  mooted  right  to  the  name  of  Christians,  says 
the  paper,  that  name  belongs  to  whoever  accepts  Christ 
as  an  infallible  teacher  (as,  apparently,  no  speaker  in 
the  convention  refused  to  do). 

To  Ms  Wife. 

October,  1863. 

Everybody  is  well;  ehildren,  cow,  horse,  and  all, —  just  as 
well  as  they  can  be  ;  and  the  world  moves  on  as  well  as  it  can 
with  you  out  of  it.  There  is  a  hole  here  in  this  circle,  and  will 
be  till  you  come  back ;  but  considering  that,  we  are  all  as  well 
as  coiild  be  expected.  I  have  been  very  busy  to-day.  I  had 
to  send  Pomeroy  to  Pittsfield,  and  am  only  afraid  I  can't  get 
him  back  in  time  to  send  to  Amherst,  and  going  myself  is  out 
Vol.  I.— 26 


402     THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

of  the  question.  This  forenoon  I  rode  to  Chicopee  on  business, 
stopped  at  Henry's  coming  back  —  downcast  but  comfortable, 
and  sister  still  there  —  and  then  to  the  cattle-show  on  the  Park 
for  a  little  while.  This  afternoon,  in  the  garden  for  an  hour, 
at  the  office  for  an  hour  or  two  ;  a  caU  on  Mother,  who  has  a 
cold ;  and  then  home  to  entertain  Mr.  Flint,  secretary  of  the 
Agricultural  Board,  at  tea.  He  has  gone  now,  and  I  am  writ- 
ing in  haste  for  the  mail  at  nine  o'clock,  after  which  I  shall  go 
to  the  office  for  a  httle  while.  Mrs.  King  won't  give  up  Kate, 
the  washerwoman,  and  Sarah  is  doing  the  washing  and  ironing. 
Doesn't  that  fructify  your  economical  soul  ?    I  don't  hear  a  bit 

of  family  news.     and  his  wife  are  here, —  saw  him  for  a 

moment ;  didn't  find  humihty  written  on  his  forehead.  Bryan 
is  in  Boston,  or  was  to-day.  Mrs. as  frigid  as  an  ice- 
berg. We  are  growing  dreadfuUy  apart  —  and  because  she 
can't  wait  till  I  outgrow  dyspepsia,  and  wiU  insist  that  I  shall 
treat  her  with  at  least  as  much  consideration  as  she  thinks  I 
show  some  other  people !  Ah,  well !  People  won't  twit  me 
much  longer  on  having  so  many  friends.  That  crime  is  passing 
from  my  soul ! 

I  am  going  to  introduce  hominy  to  the  Hotel  de  Bowles.  I 
suppose  you  wiU  begin  by  turning  up  your  dainty  nose  at  it, 
and  end  by  eating  an  extra  share  !  Then  I  am  going  to  have 
baked  instead  of  fried  fish-cakes  !  You  see  I  believe  —  as  to 
eating  —  that  it  is  worth  doing  well,  since  it  must  be  done.  Yet 
what  unspiritual  business  it  is  !  I  don't  see  how  a  sentimental 
young  lady  can  stand  seeing  her  lover  eat,  especially  if  he  eats 

like  Thackeray  or or  some  other  people  I  wot  of.   I  have 

dropped  one  or  two  promising  friendships  myself  on  this  score. 
Vulgar  but  absolute  necessity !  Don't  vex  your  economical 
spirit  now,  but  have  what  you  want,  and  be  comfortable. 
What's  the  use"?  There's  money  enough ;  pray  enjoy  it.  Then, 
you  know  my  perversity :  if  I  find  you're  doing  some  self-denial 
for  the  sake  of  half  a  doUar,  I  shall  certainly  squander  two,  in 
order  to  balance  it. 

Mary,  don't  you  let  my  fretful,  downcast  moods  annoy  you. 
They  are  unworthy  of  me,  and  I  ought  to  rise  above  them,  and 
control  them.    But  sometimes  they  master  and  overpower  me. 


OFFICE   AND   HOME:    LETTEKS   (lS63-18Ga).       403 

I  want  to  give  it  all  up  sometimes.  Nobody  can  understand 
the  spell  that  is  upon  me.  It  cannot  be  described  —  it  doesn't 
seem  as  if  anybody  else  can  ever  feel  it.  Consider  me  if  you 
can  as  a  little  child,  sick  and  peevish,  wanting  love  and  indul- 
gence and  petting  and  rest  and  peace.  There,  this  ought  not 
to  have  been  written.  But  it  can't  be  unwritten,  and  it  is  too 
late  to  write  anything  else.  It  is  morbid ;  but  there's  truth, 
sometimes  the  clearest,  in  our  morbid  reflections.  Health  is 
too  often  independence,  selfish  philosophy,  and  indifference. 

]My  heartiest  love  to  Maria.  Get  and  give  as  much  comfort 
and  pleasure  as  you  can, —  between  you.  You  mustn't  urge 
her  too  much  to  stay  with  you  when  I  am  also  with  you.  It  wOl 
be  a  disappointment  to  me  to  miss  her  altogether,  but  she  has 
other  friends — and  she  is  giving  us  our  fuU  share — more  than 
we  can  repay  —  and  after  her  Sunday  vacations  she  wUl  come 
back  fresh  and  hearty  for  your  entertainment. 

Keep  up  good  courage ;  believe  all  is  well  at  home  —  that  I 
will  take  as  good  care  of  every  detail  as  possible ;  and  above 
all  feel  ever  that  my  thought,  my  love,  and  my  prayer  are  with 
and  for  and  about  you. 

November,  1863. 
8  p.  M.,  Tuesday  [Election  day]. 

Busy  with  election  returns,  and  you  must  take  a  word. 
Everybody  well  at  house.  Children  never  better,  high  and 
low.  All  but  baby  over  at  Amelia's  to  tea  —  that  is,  all  the 
children.  The  boy  has  got  his  new  cap,  and  is  as  proud  of  it 
as  his  mother  is  of  him. 

My  going  to  New  York  this  week  depends  upon  what  I  hear 
from  you.  I  stand  ready  for  marching  orders.  Let  me  hear 
from  you  constantly  and  at  once. 

Are  you  interested  in  our  election  news  ?  Have  you  read 
to-day's  Bepublican  ?  The  Republican  bolt  against  the  reign 
of  Judge  Shurtleff,  Trask  &  Co.  is  triumphant.  Harris  chosen 
[D.  L.  Harris,  to  the  legislature] ,  and  Sturtevant  defeated  by 
a  tie  vote  with  Bond.  I  am  afraid  there  is  a  great  deal  of  hard 
swearing  against  ''Sam  Bowles"  around  in  secret  places  to- 
night. The  whole  is  the  choicest  bit  of  fun  I  have  had  this 
long  while. 


404     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

If  you  and  Maria  can  take  the  responsibility,  buy  the  three 
dresses, —  seven  yards  for  Mamie,  nine  for  Sallie,  and  nine  of 
Empress  cloth  (double  or  extra  width)  for  AUie.  The  latter 
dark-green  or  brown.  Then  you  may  stop  the  miUinery  and 
dry  goods  department  tiU  you  get  home  and  well. 

The  baby  grows  fat  and  rosy  —  talks  better  and  acts  more 
like  a  man.  AU  owing  to  the  excellent  example  of  his  fond 
father  and  your  loving  husband. 

Wednesday. 

I  am  real  tired  to-night,  but  very  well  for  me.  It  was  Uke 
old  times,  staying  up  at  the  office  last  night  tiU  after  midnight, 
coming  home  and  sitting  over  the  fire,  eating  grapes  and 
drinking  mild  brandy  and  water,  aU  alone,  for  an  hour,  and 
then  to  bed.  I  slept  weU  notwithstanding,  and  called  the  girls 
and  the  children  at  quarter  past  six.  George  Reynolds  and  his 
teams  and  men  have  commenced  grading  to-day.  The  green- 
house begins  to  assume  form  and  character.  My  rural  fence 
has  got  to  go  over.  Nell  took  a  French  breakfast  this  morning, 
or  I'ather  an  American  breakfast  in  French  style,  and  got  up 
in  time  to  avail  herself  of  an  invitation  to  Ameha's  to 
dinner.  I  was  bidden,  but  could  not  go.  She  reports  a  pleas- 
ant time ;  she  staid  all  the  afternoon.  Lizzie  Rice  came  up 
here  to  tea,  and  has  gone  with  AUie  to  Church  —  capital  C  — 
expecting  to  hear  the  Rev.  Dr.  Huntington,  who  is  reported 
in  town. 

The  children  are  well  and  happy  ;  SaUie  cyphering ;  Mamie 
and  Sammie  playing  cards  and  checkers  with  Nelhe  ;  and  the 
grand  boy  asleep  with  Mistress  Keen  brooding  over  him, 

I  was  busy  all  the  morning  with  the  Weekly  and  election 
returns.  This  afternoon  I  had  a  long  horseback  ride, — out 
nearly  to  Chicopee  and  back, —  a  fine  sunset,  and  clear  and  cold 
air,  which  I  am  sure  has  fitted  me  for  a  good  night. 

That  was  a  brave  feat  of  yours  yesterday,  and  I  am  glad  of 
it.  But  be  very  careful.  Don't  let  your  impatience  lead  you 
into  any  rash  actions.  Wait  a  httle  longer,  and  you  wiU  be 
paid  for  aU  your  suffering  and  trial. 

Everybody  inquires  lovingly  for  you.  Everybody  is  waiting 
anxiously  and  hopefully. 


OFFICE   AND   HOME:    LETTERS    (1863-1865).       405 

Miss  Whitmarsh  I  do  not  see  yet.  She  and  Lizzie  are  grow- 
ing together.  They  were  off  in  the  woods,  this  morning, 
painting. 

So  you  have  our  Hfe  in  brief :  just  as  good  as  being  here, 
isn't  it? 

Courage,  care,  patience,  Molly ! 

Sunday,  November,  1863. 
We  have  fine  weather  and  fine  spirits  to-day.  It  is  odd 
for  me  to  be  here  and  not  there,  for  over  Sunday,  and  I  am 
not  reconciled  to  it  quite.  .  .  .  Mr.  Shipley  came  up  to 
dinner,  and  I  have  had  a  long  walk  with  him.  Mother  has 
seen  the  greenhouse  and  garden  and  barn,  and  approves.  The 
small  boy  is  roUieking  with  the  Easter  down-stau-s.  He  is  really 
getting  to  be  a  very  fine  boy,  weU-behaved  and  reasonable. 
He  was  on  a  spree  last  night,  however,  and  I  tried  my  hand  at 
getting  him  to  sleep,  walking  back  and  forth  upstairs.  He  was 
eminently  good-natured  so  long  as  I  pictured  to  him  the 
dehghts  of  horseback  riding  and  whipping  Pone  ;  but  when  I 
subsided  into  di-ivel,  or  nursery  songs,  he  was  impatient  and 
wanted  to  go  back  to  Alhe.  He  promised  to  behave  himself 
and  go  to  sleep  if  I  would  take  him  back,  and  the  bargain  was 
kept  on  both  sides.  Allie  said  he  grew  restless  once  in  a  while, 
but  on  her  reminding  him  of  his  promise  to  me  he  would  sub- 
side and  go  to  sleep  again. 

November,  1863. 

It  is  good  for  sore  hearts  to  see  your  hand  of  writ  again,  to 
read  your  overflowing  words  of  tenderest  love,  and  to  know 
strength  and  life  are  coming  back  so  cheerily  and  rapidly 
to  you. 

We  have  heavy,  dreary  rain  to-day,  spoiling  all  my  j)lans  for 
work.  With  fine  weather,  I  should  have  seen  the  end  of  things 
by  to-morrow  night,  and  dismissed  most  of  the  men.  Now  I 
am  afraid  I  shall  have  to  go  "  right  in  the  suds,"  as  the  washer- 
women say.  But  go  I  shall  and  mvist.  I  must  have  the  rest  and 
recreation  and  sight  of  you. 

I  must  teU  you  both  of  an  interview  I  had  with  Miss 

to-day.  I  had  to  decline  one  of  her  letters,  which  "  pitched  into  " 


406     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

the  editors  of  the  Bepuhliean  personally.  She  didn't  like  it 
much  ;  but  I  took  high  gi-ound,  and  she  couldn't  quan*el  very- 
well.  But  I  guess  she  won't  like  me  quite  so  well,  after  this. 
Women  don't  like  to  be  crossed  better  than  men. 

The  children  are  all  well,  and  full  of  "  charades,"  or  rather 
small  acting  plays  for  Friday  night.  Charley  Allen  was  here 
two  hours  last  evening  on  his  way  from  Greenfield  to  Boston. 
I  shall  go  down  in  the  evening  train.  But  it  is  day  before 
Thanksgi^dng,  and  the  trains  will  be  full  and  late.  I  ought  to 
be  in  65  by  twelve  o'clock,  but  don't  worry  if  I  am  not  for 
an  hour  or  two  later.  I  would  come  in  the  day  train,  but  I 
am  so  full  —  it  is  impossible.  I  expect  you  both  wUl  be  glad 
enough  to  see  me  to  intermit  the  usual  disciphne.  I  shall  be 
tired  and  cross,  I  presume,  and  shall  require  great  indulgence 
and  the  proper  amount  of  feminine  petting. 

December,  1863, 

Beloved  Wipe,  and  Proud  Mother  !  All  well  at  this  end 
of  the  rope,  and  nothing  new.  I  am  up  to  my  ears  in  work 
under  the  hill ;  had  nine  men  and  six  horses  all  in  harness  to- 
day—  grading,  making  embankments  and  grape-borders,  set- 
ting fences,  drawing  sand  and  turf,  transplanting,  etc.,  etc.  I 
have  been  out  nearly  all  day  superintending  and  clearing 
strawberry  beds, —  and  I  am  the  better  for  it.  But  I  see  so 
many  things  I  want  to  do  that  I  almost  despair.  I  shan't  stop 
tUl  the  snow  shuts  down  on  me. 

Sleep  —  sleep  —  let  Mrs.  E.  and  Maria  experiment  on  the 
baby.  Don't  fret  over  him  —  they  can't  harm  him  —  only  you 
can,  and  that  by  nervousness  and  anxiety  and  overdoing. 
This  is  solemn  truth  —  heed  it,  an'  thou  lov'st  him  and  me.  For 
the  rest,  be  of  good  cheer,  and  wait.  Think  over  all  the  joys 
in  your  life,  and  how  few  have  so  many,  and  how  many  so  few 
sorrows.  Get  all  the  comfort  you  can  from  Maria,  and  give 
her  all  you  can  in  retxim  —  and  you  can  give  her  a  great  deal. 

December,  1863. 

I  wish  you  could  breathe  this  clear,  cold  air.  There  is  tonic 
in  it  beyond  bark,  iron,  and  quinine ;  soothing  beyond  opium  j 


OFFICE  AND   HOME:    LETTEKS   (1863-1865).      407 

stren^hening  beyond  beef  tea.    We  will  save  some  up  for  you. 
I  will  try  to  bring  you.  some. 

Babies  all  well  and  hearty,  individually  and  aggregately. 
School  is  in  progress,  and  the  three  are  in  it  with  zest.  Skating 
too  has  opened. 

I  enclose  Mr.  Pomeroy's  grateful  letter  —  perhaps  you  can 
pick  it  out,  when  you  sit  up.  If  not,  it  is  of  no  consequence, 
though  it  helps  to  know  him. 

I  dine  with  Curtis  at  Walker's  to-morrow  —  nobody  else. 
To-night  Briggs  gives  a  supper  to  his  friends  because  of  his 
election  as  alderman.  Sallie  wants  to  know  why  I  am  not 
elected  to  anything.  The  children  wiU  begin  to  look  upon  me 
with  contempt,  unless  I  hold  some  office.  So  the  American 
mind  is  early  debauched  by  respect  for  office  as  such.  What 
could  I  say  to  her,  save  that  the  people  didn't  seem  to  want  me, 
or  perhaps  it  was  because  I  wouldn't  give  suppers'?  Henry 
treated  at  the  hotel,  which  was  well  for  Amelia's  carpets. 

I  pray  you  prosper  in  strength,  freedom  from  pain,  and  hope 
and  courage.  The  children  send  abundant  love  and  kisses. 
"  Even  more  I,"  as  Paul  says. 

Dec,  1863. 

Dear  Girls  in  65  :  It  is  good  news  you  send  to-day.  Keep 
on  getting  better.  There  is  nothing  so  good  to  put  babies  to 
sleep  as  a  strong  arm  around  them  and  a  strong  wiU  behind  it. 
The  connection  between  weak  and  nervous  mothers  and  nurses 
and  sleepless  and  nervous  children,  is  just  as  quick  and  siu'e 
'^  as  the  play  of  the  magnet — the  joy  or  sorrow  of  two  loving 
hearts. 

I  am  so  weary  with  a  long  day  outdoors,  digging  and  weed- 
ing! I  have  only  just  now  —  dark  —  put  on  whole  clothes 
and  "washed  up."  You  must  excuse  the  few  words  in  which 
I  write,  and  be  assured  of  the  sympathy  and  the  Jove  behind 
them. 

It  has  been  a  sweet,  soft  day  here,  and  everybody  is  well. 
The  boy  never  looked  heartier  or  handsomer.  He  is  practic- 
ing on  Yes  and  3Iamtna, — but  aU  his  efforts  at  the  latter  melt 
sweetly  into  Papa — so  ravishingly!  The  children  are  aU.  in 
high  glee,  and  the  town  calm. 


408     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

It  is  so  provoking  my  Tuesday  letter  did  not  reach  you 
yesterday.  I  wrote  you  each,  as  I  did  also  last  night.  Be  sure 
I  give  you  something  every  night  —  of  the  written  word  —  while 
the  thought  is  full  and  constant,  and  always  as  you  would 
wish. 

And  so,  love  and  grace  be  with  you. 

December,  1863. 

The  good  news  you  send  us,  my  dearest  wife,  to-day,  is  quite 
cheering.  It  gladdens  my  heart  very  much  ;  and  everybody 
rejoices  that  there  is  such  a  promise  of  your  early  return. 
Home  is  waiting  and  yearning  for  its  lost  head.  But  pray  be 
cautious ;  a  Httle  overdoing  now,  a  httle  fussing  and  anxiety, 
and  too  much  care  of  baby,  wiU  pull  you  all  down  again.  So 
put  clogs  on  your  outstretching  wings.  Be  content  to  keep 
them  folded  a  httle  longer,  so  when  you  do  fly,  it  shall  be  clear 
to  Springfield. 

I  have  had  a  long,  fuU  day  at  office  and  house,  but  have  been 
well  sustained,  and  am  Yevj  weU  for  me.  The  family  are  in 
fine  condition.  The  school  term  closed  to-day,  and  a  vacation 
of  two  weeks  opened.  You  will  hear  now  oftener  from  the 
children.  They  are  very  busy,  you  know,  during  the  last 
weeks  of  school  term.  And  it  is  not  so  easy  for  them  to  write  ; 
it  is  a  larger  undertaking  than  for  you  or  me.  They  don't 
think  of  you  any  the  less  often,  love  you  any  more  feebly,  re- 
joice less  keenly  in  your  new  joy,  or  sigh  less  warmly  for  your 
return,  because  they  don't  put  it  all  in  writing  daily.  You  know 
there  are  higher  and  hoher  expressions  of  love  than  poor  words 
can  give. 

The  work  in  the  garden  goes  on  apace.  I  have  borrowed 
more  money.  If  I  go  on  long  at  this  rate,  you  wiU  have  to  go 
on  short  allowance  of  gowns  and  gaieties  next  year.  But  the 
time  for  dividends  at  the  office  is  coming,  and  the  album  busi- 
ness is  good.     So  have  a  plate  of  fresh  toast,  if  you  please. 

I  shan't  come  down  to-morrow  night,  unless  you  get  into 
sorrow  or  trouble.  It  was  hard  for  me  to  give  it  up,  and  I  only 
did  to-day  ;  but  I  must  husband  every  hour  here  at  home 
while  the  frost  and  snow  hold  off.  So  wait  patiently  and  lov- 
ingly, as  I  win  try  to,  till  Wednesday  night. 


OFFICE   AND   HOME:    LETTEES   (1863-1865).       409 

To  Miss  Whitney. 

December,  1863. 
I  return  you  Renan.  Keep  it  if  you  will.  Hood's  review  will  be 
rather  orthodox-y —  suiting  our  readers  better  than  I,  I  reckon ; 
but  you  wouldn't  do  it  and  I  couldn't.  Tending  baby  and  sick 
friends,  and  trying  to  satisfy  clamoring  outsiders,  isn't  favor- 
able for  high  theology,  is  it  *?  It  seems  to  me  Renan  is  very 
puerile  and  ridiculous  in  parts,  and  very  magnificent  in  others. 
Some  of  his  suggestions  are  harder  to  swallow  than  the  mira- 
cles, but  his  general  conception  of  Christ  is  large,  comprehen- 
sive, perhaps  as  high  as  any  yet  written,  though  not  above  some 
felt.  But  it  is  comforting  to  people  with  free  and  vagrant 
heads  to  feel  that  there  is  even  a  Christianity  back  of  and 
without  Christ,  and  to  which  he  seems  rather  interpreter  and 
disciple  than  founder.  Do  you  see  the  story  that  Strauss  has 
recanted  —  come  over  to  Orthodoxy  —  converted  by  his  critics'? 
Odd,  is  it  not  ?  What  is  certain  in  this  life  but  Death  and 
Love? 

[Probably  1864.] 
.  .  .  We  shall  have  to  be  counted  converts  to  your  Mr. 
Frothingham :  we  went  again  on  Sunday, —  he  was  a  trifle  too 
radical  for  Mary,  but  he  on  the  whole  voices  my  philosophy 
more  fully  than  any  other  preacher  I  ever  heard.  I  don't 
see  why  he  isn't  Theodore  Parker  improved;  he  has  all 
his  philosophy  and  spirituaUty,  and  little  of  his  hot  temper, 
gross  conceit,  and  bigotry.  Yet  because  of  these  lacks  he  will 
have  smaller  power.  The  congregation  seems  large  and  grow- 
ing, and  he  has  a  more  hopeful,  successful  air.  .  .  .  Froth- 
ingham was  on  the  whole  the  greatest  enjoyment  in  New  York. 
There  were  drawbacks  on  all  else,  and  even  on  that  —  but  that 
possessed  me  more,  made  me  forgetful,  for  the  time,  of  my  own 
wants,  my  egoism  —  which  was  well. 

I  have  changed  my  habits  somewhat  now,  under  Dr.  Barker's 
suggestions.  I  come  to  the  office  about  ten,  and  stay  till  four, — 
intending  a  walk  and  light  lunch  from  twelve  to  one, —  and 
dine  at  five.  I  mean  to  do  all  my  work,  and  read  all  my 
papers,  at  the  office  in  those  hours  —  and  for  the  rest,  exer- 
cise, home  cares,  and  amusement.    Pray  for  patience  and 


410     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWLES. 

persistence  in  well-doing  for  me.     These  seem  to  be  the  neces- 
sities of  the  case. 

January,  1864. 

.  .  .  I  have  glimmers  of  health  enough  to  read.  It  is  like 
a  peep  into  heaven.  There  are  so  many  things  I  want  to  read, 
and  so  much  enjoyment  and  consolation  in  the  reading.  And 
yet,  reading  is  not  my  life,  and  never  can  be,  unless  it  is  re- 
made. Still,  when  there  is  power  enough  in  the  brain,  I  think 
I  shall  read  more  and  to  better  purpose  than  ever  before. 

Februai-y,  1864. 

Parker's  book  is  out  [Weiss's  "  Life  of  Theodore  Parker"] ,  but 
not  here,  and  I  have  sent  for  copies  for  you  and  me.  We  shall 
both  want  to  read  it  and  own  it.  I  have  read  the  Examiner''s 
review  of  it  with  interest.  That  side  of  his  character  which  you 
felt,  and  a  few  others,  the  afl&rmative,  constructive,  as  well  as 
the  sentimental  and  soft  and  pious,  is  now  coming  out  only  to 
the  world.  And  so  now  we  shall  begin  to  see,  as  never  before, 
his  effect  upon  religious  thought.  But  I  do  not  yet  reahze  that 
he  made  a  new  rehgion ;  and  yet  it  is  much  more  than  likely 
that  he  will  take  his  place  along  with  Luther  and  Calvin  as 
remedying  and  improving  the  defects  of  the  old  —  seeing  more 
clearly  than  his  contemporaries  the  religion  that  Christ  estab- 
hshed,  out  of  the  Heart  of  the  Great  Father.  It  impressed  me 
that  Parker  only  began  his  real  work  at  thirty-five.  All  before 
was  getting  ready.  He  began  at  the  age  where  I  left  off.  I  didn't 
get  ready  —  he  did.  Only  so,  he  won  his  great  glory, —  only  so, 
I  won  my  small  one.  If  I  had  waited  to  get  ready,  I  should 
have  done  nothing.  There  was  not  fire  enough  in  my  stomach 
to  have  done  it  save  as  it  was  forced  on  me  in  the  puerile  pas- 
sion of  youth.  So  oddly  are  lives  contrasted,  and  work  done  — 
only  one  should  not  think  of  one's  little  self  when  reading  of  the 
great  Parker. 

But  how  very  sad  it  is  to  see  that  such  great-headedness  and 
great-heartedness  —  so  much  nobility  —  carries  along  with  it, 
as  by  a  necessity  of  its  very  power  and  greatness,  so  much 
meanness  and  hatefulness !  Or  must  we  carry  the  burden  and 
blame  over  on  to  our  poor  humanity,  which  can  only  be  waked 


OFFICE  AND   HOME:   LETTERS   (1863-1865).      411 

ap  through  such  debasing  and  marring  of  true  gi'eatness  ?  So 
it  would  seem.  Ah,  but  Christ  escaped  this  law,  this  necessity, 
that  belongs  to  aU  other  great  men  and  reformers  in  history  ; 
yet  how  he  has  projected  himself  into  and  over  the  world's 
life !  Calvin  imprisoned  and  burned ;  Parker  came  as  near 
it  as  our  civilization  would  permit —  but  Christ ''  forgave  them, 
for  they  knew  not  what  they  did."  Yet  he  did  drive  the 
money-changers  from  the  church,  and  he  did  denounce  Phari- 
sees as  generations  of  vipers ;  and  there  is  where  he  was 
human ! 

.  .  .  I  do  not  know  what  there  is  that  I  can  do  for  you  in 
the  preparations  for  Cahfomia.  I  would  do  much,  everything, 
—  I  suppose  the  best  ser\ace  is  to  keep  out  of  the  way,  and  not 
interrupt  the  flow  of  preparations,  or  depress  by  vain  sorrow. 
You  will  wish  to  carry  a  little  Ubrary,  a  few  choice  books,  such 
as  you  will  fall  back  on  and  read  and  re-read.  Now  these  I 
wish  to  furnish,  and  you  must  let  me,  and  tell  me  what  they 
are.  I  think  of  Mrs.  Browning  —  in  full ;  Emerson,  ditto ;  Whit- 
tier,  the  poet  of  liberty  and  humanity ;  Dana's  "  Household 
Book  of  Poetry,"  which  has  so  many  of  the  gems  of  aU  ages  and 
countries, —  and  now,  what  else  1  I  am  ashamed  to  say  I  don't 
know  you  well  enough  to  enlarge  the  list  with  confidence.  Any 
novels,  and  what  ?  There  must  be  more,  and  as  you  have  not 
been  generous  enough  to  me  to  let  me  freely  enough  into  your 
book  tastes  and  dependencies  to  enable  me  to  tell,  you  must 
now,  by  catalogue.     The  more,  the  happier  I. 

To  Charles  Allen. 

May  9,  18&4. 

I  shall  deUght  to  have  you  notice  Frothingham's  book  for  us, 
and  he  would,  doubtless,  be  pleased,  too ;  and  if  he  would 
think  of  it  to  tell  his  publishers  to  send  his  books  to  us,  they 
would  always  have  a  friendly  notice. 

I  reaUy  don't  see  why  you  should  fash  yourself  about  my 
blackguard  way  of  editing  the  Bepubliean.  You  tell  me  only 
pubhe  facts,  such  as  you  would  teU  anybody,  such  as  are  at  the 
getting  of  us  all.  I  use  them  as  I  see  fit,  and  am  responsible. 
The  only  difference  between  you  and  me  is  that  you  abuse  and 


412     THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

blackguard  in  court,  where  the  law,  which  you  fellows  have 
made,  protects  you ;  while  we  blackguard  in  the  papers,  where^ 
the  law,  which  you  make,  doesn't  protect  us  !  I  think  you  are 
savage  and  harsh  in  court ;  but  that  is  none  of  my  business. 
Let  us  each  be  responsible  for  our  own  individuaUsms,  and  for 
no  more.  You  will  have  a  heavy  load  if  you  undertake  to 
carry  mine. 

Bushwhacking  is  very  annoying  to  guerillas,  but  it  is  some- 
times the  only  way  to  fight  them.  Defended  on  strictly  legal 
principles  in  court,  we  should  be  beaten  in  the  suit.  But  if  we 
break  down  their  character,  expose  their  misdeeds,  and  make 
them  notorious  —  we  have  driven  them  out  of  court;  at  least, 
out  of  the  jury-box.  Our  plan  is  to  stimulate  and  foment  this 
investigation  at  Washington  ;  and  for  this  nothing  is  so  useful 
as  newspaper  talk.  The  members  don't  care  a  copper  for  your 
private  letters,  but  what  you  print  sets  them  agoing  always. 

Come  down  this  way,  and  drink  some  rum,  and  confess  that 
there  is  more  than  one  way  to  do  a  thing,  sometimes. 

To  Miss  Whitney, 

Sunday,  September  4,  1864. 

It  is  10  1-2.  I  have  had  my  bath,  my  hour  on  horseback, 
my  breakfast,  a  half -hour  (for  digestion  !)  with  the  papers,  have 
picked  vegetables  and  fruit  for  dinner  —  won't  you  come  and 
dine  at  one?  — have  put  on  my  blue  suit,  and  after  worshiping 
you  for  a  few  moments,  especially,  shall  go  to  church.  Mary 
has  been  bustling  about  all  the  morning,  doing  the  work  of  her 
three  girls,  and  getting  them  and  the  children  off  to  church 
and  Sunday-school.  The  baby,  your  baby,  has  made  his 
advent  this  morning  in  short  clothes  and  leather  shoes  —  the 
second  stage  of  babyhood.    He  is  well,  too  fat  almost  to  be 

beautiful,   and  M says  has  *'  kiUing  eyes."    When  you 

come  back,  he  will  fascinate  you  as  a  young  gentleman,  and 
you  can  try  your  theology  dodge  on  him,  if  you  dare  ! 

This  week  we  have  here  a  great  cattle  and  horse  show,  by 
the  New  England  Society ;  and  think  of  it, —  in  the  stress  of 
war  time, —  it  is  hkely  to  be  the  grandest  agricultural  exhibi- 


OFFICE   AND   HOME:    LETTERS   (1863-1865).       413 

tion  ever  known  in  New  England.  Hampden  Park  is  almost 
covered  with  sheds  and  tents  for  its  accommodation.  The 
town  will  he  running  over  full,  and  where  and  how  the  crowds 
will  sleep  and  eat,  I  have  no  idea.  We  expect  nobody  in  par- 
ticular, unless  George  Morgan  comes,  but  can  hardly  avoid 
filling  all  oui*  spare  room.  Had  I  felt  up  to  it  I  should  have 
in^dted  Governor  Andrew  and  his  staff,  but  the  burden  would 
be  too  great  on  me  in  my  weakness. 

Sherman  has  finished  his  splendid  campaign  with  Atlanta, 
and  the  tone  of  the  North  stiffens  and  grows  brave.  But  for 
poUtics  and  pohticians,  we  should  substantially  get  out  of  the 
woods  this  fall.  Lincoln's  triumphant  election,  if  it  can  be  ac- 
complished, will  be  the  final  coup  de  grace  ;  it  wiU  raise  up  at  once 
a  reactionary  party  in  the  South  —  a  peace  party  that  would 
be  controlling,  with  the  aid  of  oui*  arms.  But  now,  aU  is  imcer- 
tain  in  the  political  field,  though  growing  better  apparently. 
Do  you  notice  that  the  Anti-slavery  Standard  and  the  Liberator, 
the  representatives  of  the  old  Abohtionists,  are  both  earnest  for 
Lincoln  f  Yet  a  new  crop  of  radicals  have  sprung  up,  who  are 
resisting  the  president  and  making  mischief.  Chase  is  going 
around,  peddling  his  griefs  in  private  ears,  and  sowing  dissatis- 
faction about  Lincoln.  Oh,  how  Uttle  great  men  can  be  —  the 
larger  the  smaller.  Or  is  it  only  the  contrast,  the  conspicuous- 
ness  ?  Or,  again,  does  nature  compensate  for  great  gifts  in  one 
direction  by  withholding  in  others  ?  You  are  a  moral  metaphy- 
sician —  study  it  up  ! 

But  the  beU  rings  —  and  I  kiss  my  hand  to  you  ! 

Dr.  Osgood,  of  New  York,  preached  for  us  last  Sunday  and 
to-day.  I  didn't  get  reconciled  to  his  manner,  and  his  matter 
is  not  so  overpoweringly  good  as  to  make  one.  Our  people  are 
utterly  at  sea  as  to  a  minister ;  the  man  they  want  they  can't 
have,  and  there  is  no  one  in  sight  that  is  satisfactory.  The 
Northampton  society  does  not  settle  any  one  yet,  as  I  see.  It 
is  a  shiftless,  lamentable  state  of  affau's ;  the  evil  I  do  not  quite 
comprehend,  nor  can  I  see  the  remedy.  But  I  have  been  long 
thinking  that  the  minister  should  be  more  the  center,  the 
leader,  the  teacher,  of  his  people ;  that  they  should  gather 
around  him  as  disciples,  somewhat  as  of  old  in  Asia,  in  Greece 


414     THE  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

and  Rome, —  going  to  hear  him  and  joining  in  his  work  because 
they  believe  in  him,  what  he  teaches,  and  his  ways  of  doing 
good, —  rather  than  centering  in  a  church  organization  around 
a  few  hfeless  dogmas,  and  having  for  associates  people  whom 
you  have  no  sort  of  sympathy  with,  whose  principles  of  life  are 
in  most  cases  wholly  at  variance  with  your  own,  and  for  a  min- 
ister mayhap  one  equally  discordant  with  your  spirit ;  or  if  not 
with  youi's,  then  with  that  of  half  the  rest  of  the  parish.  Most 
of  the  earnest  and  best  work  of  our  lives  is  not  done  with  the 
people  who  go  to  the  same  meeting  with  us  ;  with  them  we  are 
often  wholly  at  variance  ;  whUe  in  other  parishes  we  find  those 
of  like  spu'it  and  faith,  and  along  with  whom  we  yoke  in  the 
best  labor  of  our  life.  The  church  organization  seems  to  me  a 
failure  —  at  least  that  we  have  outgrown  it,  or  are  fast  out- 
growing it.     Did  you  ever  think  of  all  this  —  and  what  ? 

This  is  a  quiet  day,  cloudy  and  now  rainy  —  full  of  the  Fall 
feeling,  and  with  a  savor  of  sadness  all  in  and  over  it. 

Sunday,  October  23,  1864. 

.  .  .  To-morrow  I  hope  to  go  to  Boston  for  a  day  or  two. 
It  win  be  my  first  night  out  of  this  house  since  we  moved  into 
it,  more  than  three  months  ago.  Is  not  that  unusual  steadiness 
for  me  ?  But  the  truth  is,  I  have  no  pluck  to  break  away ;  I  yield 
cowardly  to  the  httle  daUy  duties  and  cares,  and  don't  seem  to 
have  the  ambition  or  the  power  to  clear  them  off  and  get  away. 
But  I  mean  to,  and  I  wiU, —  for  I  am  growing  duU  and  narrow, 
and  getting  below  —  farther  below  —  my  soaring  friend  in 
California.     And  I  must  keep  within  reaching  distance,  at  least. 

Election  prospects  continue  to  look  well.  So,  on  the  whole, 
does  the  military  situation.  The  inner  circles  have  great  faith 
in  Grant's  going  into  Richmond  very  shortly.  But  he  is  more 
anxious  to  catch  the  rebel  army  than  to  take  the  town.  The 
two  things  would  be  the  signal  for  the  downfall  of  the  rebellion. 
''  Phil  Sheridan  "  is  our  latest  hero  ;  he  has  this  last  week  shown 
the  highest  quahty  of  a  military  commander, —  the  power  to 
wrench  brilliant  victory  from  a  terrible  defeat.  He  is  a  little 
fellow,  of  Irish  parentage,  with  brains  enough  to  steady  his 
conceit,  but  not  to  conceal  it. 


OFFICE   AND   HOME:    LETTERS   (1863-1865).       415 

Do  you  begin  to  hear  about  "  Emily  Chester,"  the  new  novel? 
You  will  have  seen  Mrs.  Cook's  notice  of  it.  I  inclose  Gail 
Hamilton's,  and  mark  Frank  Sanborn's  in  the  Comrnonicealth. 
And  the  book  itself  I  will  try  to  send  you  by  another  steamer. 
It  seems  to  have  power  and  merit.  The  author  is  said  to  be  a 
Baltimore  girl,  and  this  her  first  writing.  How  genius  com- 
pensates for  experience.  How  this  dower  of  great  insight 
divines  all  hearts,  aU  trials,  aU  experiences.  It  is  this  power 
which  is  genius,  and  distinguishes  it  fi*om  talent. 

To  Charles  Allen. 

November,  1864. 

This  winter  caught  my  cabbages,  grapes,  roses,  and  a'  that, 
and  in  rescuing  them  I  am  losing  Boston  this  week.  Sorry ; 
but  agriculture  and  horticulture  first.  Colfax  is  to  be  here 
Friday ;  how  long  to  stay,  I  do  not  know. 

I  took  my  old  post  election  night,  and  sat  through  from  six 
P.  M.  to  six  A.  M.,  and  survived  it  capitally,  suffering  much  less 
than  I  feared. 

There  is  nothing  else  new  with  me.  I  am  organizing  anew, 
somewhat,  at  the  office,  with  a  view  to  still  more  rehef  for  my- 
self. I  want  things  to  go  whether  I  am  around  or  not,  so  that 
I  can  stay  away  days,  evenings,  or  weeks,  even,  if  so  be  I  am  in 
the  mood.  But  I  think  we  have  some  good  papers.  To-day's, 
for  instance,  was  about  as  good  as  any  of  the  *'  metropolitans." 
"  The  Case  of  the  Florida  "  was  Ashmun's. 

To  Miss  Whitney. 

Washington,  Feb.  1, 1865. 
Yesterday  was  a  great  day  in  our  history.  Congress  then 
perfected  the  abohtion  of  slavery  through  the  amendment  of 
the  Constitution.  The  scene  in  the  House  was  of  deepest 
interest.  The  floor  swarmed  with  distinguished  individuals 
besides  the  members, —  the  leading  senators,  members  of  the 
cabinet,  Chief-justice  Chase,  prominent  generals,  leading 
anti-slaveiy  men  from  all  quarters.  All  hung  with  impatience 
on  the  result.    Hope  fluttered.    Doubt  floated  on  and  off  like  a 


416     THE   LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   SAMUEL   BOWT,ES. 

cloud.  But  tlie  Opposition  wavered,  broke,  and  the  sky  cleared 
away  in  a  complete  triumph.  Then  such  an  outburst  of  feel- 
ing—  such  enthusiasm  and  applause!  The  galleries  rose  to 
their  feet  —  so  the  members.  The  ladies  floated  their  gauze 
handkerchiefs  and  clapped  their  gloved  hands.  The  soldiers 
shouted  and  cheered.  The  members  on  our  side  threw  up  their 
arms  wildly  and  embraced  each  other.  Joy  rioted  in  crazy  ex- 
pression for  some  moments.  The  occasion  was  historic ;  the 
thought  subhme.  The  day  opened  a  new  dispensation.  To-day 
a  negro  has  been  admitted  to  practice  in  the  Supreme  Court. 
And  the  work  goes  on,  or  rather  has  just  begun. 

.  .  .  It  is  deUghtful  to  see  how  Massachusetts  looms  up 
in  these  times.  Never  was  her  influence  greater,  or  so  much 
confessed.  Never  was  her  position,  as  the  first  of  Christian 
democracies  so  conspicuous.  I  feel  more  and  more  content  to 
live  and  die  in  her  embrace  —  more  and  more  proud  to  be  a 
small  element  in  her  progress,  a  small  influence  in  her  power. 
And  reallj'  there  is  no  state  where  so  much  of  all  the  real  com- 
forts of  life  —  material  and  spu-itual  —  can  be  secured  as  within 
her  borders.  We  who  live  there  hardly  reahze  all  this.  It  is  only 
when  we  get  away,  and  see  what  Ufe  is  elsewhere,  and  hear  the 
testimony  of  men  and  women  who  know  her  from  afar,  by 
obsei-vation  and  study  and  comparison,  that  we  can  appreciate 
and  acknowledge  our  fortune.  You  must  never  give  uj)  Massa- 
chusetts, nor  that  best  and  sweetest  part  of  it,  the  Connecticut 
Valley.  Its  comforts  and  advantages  and  its  power  are  to  be 
more  and  more  realized  and  confessed  as  the  new  day  of  the 
nation  ripens  into  fullness. 

To  his  Wife. 

Washington,  Sunday. 
I  wrote  you  of  the  melancholy  morning  yesterday.  The 
evening  turned  out  quite  dissipated,  altogether  quite  a  contrast, 
and  unexpectedly.  I  went  out  to  walk  and  to  do  an  errand  for 
Mr.  Walker,  and  met  Mr.  Colfax  on  his  way  to  Mrs.  Lincoln's 
reception.  He  insisted  on  my  going  along,  and  there  I  met  the 
Bankses  and  a  few  other  people  I  knew.  General  Banks  next 
insisted  we  should  go  together  to  the  reception  of  Mrs.  Sprague 


OFFICE   AND   HOME:    LETTEKS   (1863-1865).       417 

(Miss  Chase) ;  there  we  met  much  the  same  people,  though 
rather  more  select.  I  came  to  the  hotel,  then,  to  find  "Walker 
over  his  sickness,  and  getting  up.  Then  I  went  to  Mr,  Dana's 
to  dine,  and  again  met  Mr.  EUiot,  M.  C,  from  New  Bedford, 
and  we  had  a  pleasant  evening  tiU  8 :  30,  when  I  went  to  meet 
Mr.  Colfax  and  his  mother  at  Dr.  Peter  Parker's  (who  is  a  re- 
turned and  retired  missionary  and  doctor  in  China)  where  I 
had  a  pleasant  half -hour.  From  there  at  9 :  30  we  went  to  Mr. 
Seward's  reception,  which  was  more  select  and  brilliant  than 
either  of  the  others.  I  met  here  JIary  Morgan,  daughter  of 
Mr.  George  Morgan,  and  Mrs.  Stoekel  (EUza  Howard)  with 
whom  I  had  agreeable  talk.  At  10 :  30  we  left,  Mr.  Walker, 
General  Banks,  and  I,  and  we  three  went  off  and  got  some 
steamed  oysters,  and  home  to  our  hotel  at  midnight  rather  used 
up  by  the  various  dissipations.  To-day  we  have  been  to  the 
Capitol  to  hear  Rev.  Mr.  Channing  preach,  and  a  beautiful  old 
Quakeress  from  New  Bedford  exhort,  and  afterward  to  call 
on  Senator  Sumner.  Now  I  am  resting  (!)  before  going  out  to 
drive  with  Mr.  Ashmun.  So  you  see  I  am  rather  alive  and 
"  going  it."  I  am  pretty  well  to-day,  and  Mr.  Walker  is  quite  re- 
covered, and  our  visit  bears  more  cheerful  promise  than  it  did. 
Your  first  note  of  Friday  reached  me  last  night.  I  am  glad  to 
note  your  entei-prise  in  going  out  daily.  I  hope  you  will  keep 
it  up.  Take  one  hour  or  two  every  day  for  outside  life,  and 
you  will  be  better  and  stronger  and  do  more  inside  in  the  other 
twenty-two  for  it  —  depend  upon  it. 

To  Miss  Whitney. 

Home,  Simday,  March  12,  1865. 
.  .  .  Our  society  is  still  pastorless,  and  finds  nobody  that 
suits  it,  that  can  be  got.  Our  weekly  ministrations  are  feeble 
and  uncertain.  We  want  John  Ware,  who  went  to  Baltimore 
last  year  and  who  is  not  quite  satisfied  there  ;  and  it  looks  now 
as  if  we  should  wait  another  six  months  or  a  year,  in  hopes  of 
getting  him.  At  any  rate,  there  is  no  disposition  to  settle  an 
ordinary  man.  Our  people  were  never  stronger  or  more  gen- 
erous than  now ;  they  offered  Mr.  Ware  $3000  to  $4000  salary, 
Vol.  I.— 27 


418     THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF   SAMUEL  BOWLES. 

and  $500  outfit,  if  he  would  come.  Mr.  Wasson  fails  at  Cincin- 
nati by  reason  of  ill  health,  and  is  coming  back.  Very  likely 
we  shall  have  him  to  preach  for  us  more  or  less  during  the 
summer.  But  this  vagabond  condition  is  very  unsatisfactory 
even  to  me,  so  little  dependent  as  I  am  on  ''  the  minister,"  I 
find  I  am  longing  for  regular,  dependable  preaching,  and  a 
leader  reliable  and  faithful,  in  our  pulpit.  We  hardly  know, 
indeed,  how  much  we  appreciate  a  good  pastor,  and  in  how 
many  ways  we  count  on  him,  and  make  him  useful  to  our  lives 
till  we  are  without  him.  Tiffany  I  find  I  like  more  and  more 
as  he  is  farther  removed  —  he  was  so  true  and  genial  and 
cultured  and  really  pious. 

Your  letters  of  the  3d  and  13th  February  have  come  since  I 
wrote  last.  They  show  better  health  than  any  you  have 
written  in  a  long  while.  It  is  delightful  to  find  you  entering 
upon  your  second  year  with  so  much  courage  and  hope  and 
freshness,  and  with  a  strong  con^dction  too  of  your  usefulness 
—  able  to  see  you  have  done  something  —  as  I  have  no  doubt 
you  have  done  much,  everything, —  and  to  comprehend  how 
much  still  you  can  do  in  the  year  that  remains.  It  is  a 
great  thing,  in  any  life,  to  have  this  feehng  that  our  work  is 
usefvd,  to  feel  that  we  can  command  and  comprehend  it,  and 
to  have,  from  whatever  combination  of  motives,  a  heart  for  it. 
The  first  requisite,  I  insist,  for  all  life,  for  aU  work,  is  health  — 
at  least  good  digestion.  After  that,  of  coiirse,  motive,  object  — 
but  that  first.  I  have  not  got  beyond  that  yet  in  my  study  of 
the  science  of  the  ebb  and  flow  of  the  soul-life.  All  things  are 
easy,  possible, —  I  am  brave  for  all  life,  I  am  almost  equal  to  it, 
when  good  digestion  waits  on  appetite,  and  sleep  on  both. 
When  they  fail,  all  fails,  all  is  impossible — motives  are  blurred, 
objects  fall  away,  and  I  am  only  and  absolutely  disagreeable  — 
to  myself  most,  to  aU  much.  Nothing  has  so  taught  me  charity  as 
invalidism.  I  am  ready  to  pardon  anything  to  man  or  woman 
who  can  prove  a  clear  case  of  dyspepsia,  sluggish  liver,  or  im- 
potent sleep.  Even  murder  would  be  excusable  in  my  eyes 
under  such  provocation,  for  there  are  moments  in  my  life 
when  everything  that  is  insane  and  wicked  seems  possible. 
Let  me  add  now,  however,  that  the  thaw  and  rain  cleared  off 


OFFICE  AND  HOME:   LETTEKS   (1863-1865).      419 

Friday  night,  and  carried  off  my  extra  neuralgic  headache,  and 
since  then  I  have  been  as  well  as  I  can  hope  to  be  at  present ; 
certainly  not  tempted  to  murder,  and  even  intolerant  of  the 
year  that  keeps  you  from  me  ! 

.  .  .  I  have  read  with  interest  the  book  notices  in  the 
AtlanUc  for  March.  Bushnell's  new  book  ["  The  Vicarious 
Sacrifice  "] ,  I  have  heard  othei-wise  well  spoken  of.  I  wish  I 
could  read  it.  The  httle  I  have  read  of  his  previous  books 
always  pleased  and  elevated  and  instructed  me.  But  I  have 
not  got  to  book-reading  yet.  Last  night,  however,  I  was 
hungry  for  something  and  turned  to  my  old  friend  "  Shirley  " 
for  rehef .  I  beheve  I  like  to  read  the  last  few  chapters  at  least 
twice  a  year.  Her  love-talks  —  conflicts  rather  —  with  Moore 
are  perfectly  dehcious  to  me. 

Sumner's  behavior  in  preventing  a  vote  on  the  Louisiana 
question  was  perfectly  unjustifiable.  I  shall  henceforth  be 
intolerant  of  him,  always.    It  was  undignified,  disgraceful.* 

*  The  occasion  of  this  passage  was  as  follows :  the  Senate  had  under  con- 
sideration a  bill  for  whose  success  President  Lincoln  was  very  anxious, 
establishing  a  state  government  in  Louisiana.  Mr.  Sumner  was  dissatis- 
fied with  it,  as  not  conceding  enough  to  the  freedmen,  and,  unable  to  defeat 
it  if  a  vote  were  taken,  he  united  with  some  of  the  Democratic  leaders  to 
stave  off  action  by  parliamentary  maneuvers,  so  that  it  failed  by  default. 
Mr.  Schurz  has  related  the  sequel.  The  Washington  world  believed  Sum- 
ner's course  had  made  an  irreconcilable  breach  between  him  and  the  Presi- 
dent. But  Sumner  received  a  friendly  little  note  from  the  President, 
saying  he  would  call  in  his  carriage  to  take  him  to  the  Inauguration  Ball. 
The  carriage  came,  Mr.  Sumner  joined  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lincoln,  and  the 
company  in  the  ball-room  were  astonished  to  see  the  three  come  in  to- 
gether, Mrs.  Lincoln  on  Mr.  Sumner's  arm.  That  was  Lincoln's  way  of 
assuring  Sumner  and  the  public  that  he  was  not  going  to  quarrel. 


END  OF   VOLUME   ONE. 


m 


